


Welcome To Mysterio's Marvelous Multiverse

by Grace_d



Series: Short Stories for Small Spiders [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BAMF Peter Parker, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Iron Dad, Irondad, Multiverse, Nick Fury is Not Amused, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Probably not Marvel Multiverse compliant, SHIELD, Spider-Man: Far From Home Trailer, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 53,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grace_d/pseuds/Grace_d
Summary: [Endgame compliant, Far from home AU (probably)]NO FFH SPOILERS“Woah.” Spider-Man breathes. “Trip Advisor did not mention this.”In the middle of the room hangs a flat circle of energy, kinetic electricity twisting from the edges into the centre. Green smoke swirls around it. It's definitely creepy enough to be a portal to another universe.Peter Parker's trip to Europe was supposed to cap off his recovery from the traumatic events of the past (5?) years, kick off his summer vacation and celebrate his decision to return to friendly neighbourhood crime-fighting.Instead, Nick Fury recruited him for some avenging. Not ideal, not relaxing, and definitely above this web-slingers pay grade. (Was he even getting paid?).So when Quentin Beck AKA Mysterio suggests an alternate universe field trip, it's a hard pass from Spider-Man. He's sticking to the mission. He's got responsibilities at home. Even if it means giving up the chance to see Tony Stark again.Too bad he didn't have a choice in the matter.Will add tags as I goTeen for language





	1. Parisian Sewer Systems

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, I tripped and fell into a new fandom. First Spidey fic. 
> 
> Obviously I don't own any part of MCU or Spider-Man. 
> 
> A bit of a What If? for Far From Home. Can't tag for spoilers because obviously I don't know what's going to happen! Endgame spoilers ahead.

Peter Parker is so done. He’s so done with Director Fury, secret spy agencies, Mysterio and their world hopping, enchanted, mystic arts bullshit. Peter likes technology, mathematics and physics. Things that are based off observable, replicable rules. He does _not_ like politics, emotional blackmail or magic. He likes it even less when it sees him crawling covertly through foreign sewers systems at one am in the morning. 

“I thought travel was good for the soul.” Spider-Man says suddenly, his voice echoing softly in the gloomy tunnel. 

“Maintain radio silence unless it’s essential Parker.” Agent Hill’s dry tone crackles in his ear. 

“I’m just saying. My friends are up there getting culture and stuff, and I’m,” He skitters to the side, narrowly avoiding a stream of putrid water, “literally crawling through a sewer.” 

“Don’t fool yourself Parker. Your friends are up there drinking, because it’s Europe and they are eighteen.” Agent Hill says.

Peter rolls his eyes under his stealth mask, turning left at an intersection in the tunnel. 

“Oh _now_ I feel better about being in my situation. I actually _prefer_ , oh gross, Karen what was that? Yuck it touched me and it was _squishy_. I bet the other Avengers don’t have to crawl through sewers. Maybe Hawkeye. He would do this for fun.” 

He taps his watch, bringing the virtual map back up on his heads up display. The strange energy signature Peter’s investigating is still a few hundred metres ahead, at a convergence point in the tunnel system. The map drops from his headset and he pauses for a moment, letting his eyes readjust to the darkness. 

“Hey look, there’s a sign. La mort vient à tous lentement. Huh. Karen, what does that mean?” 

“Death comes slowly to all.” Peter’s AI chimes helpfully into his headset. 

“See?” Hill adds, “Culture.” 

“I hate you both.” Peter mutters, moving forwards down the dark tunnel. “I hate you both, a poem by Spider-Man. First up, what rhymes with SHIELD?”

It’s mostly untrue. Peter obviously loves Karen, his supportive AI. He doesn’t even mind Agent Hill. She’s intimidating in a no nonsense, I’d kill you by raising an eyebrow, kind of way but she has a dry sense of humour and seems apologetic about the whole ruined vacation thing. 

His other squad partner, Mysterio, or Quentin Beck, is pretty cool too, questionable Roman gladiator meets Aquaman costume choice aside. 

_No capes!_ Peter reminds himself while he continues to flesh out his poem. 

The other superhero tried to keep Spider-Man out of the fighting in Venice, and listened patiently to Peter’s mid mission breakdown in that random bar in Prague. And he paid for Peter’s juice. So Quentin Beck is alright. Even though he gives depressing advice. Peter’s Spidey sense hasn’t quite calibrated to his weird “I’m from an alternate universe” signals yet either. 

But Director Fury… 

“Parker,” Fury’s voice drops into the conversation and Peter automatically twitches, “shut up.” 

Fury straight up sucks. 

Spider-Man had been successful in avoiding Nick Fury and SHIELD for the past few months in New York. It’s difficult to dodge the Director of one of the most extensive covert intelligence organisations in the world, but after their first conversation, Peter hated the man. 

Peter’s fingers clench inside his gloves remembering the confrontation. Peter had been scrawling time travel calculations into a textbook at the library, running on caffeine fumes and manic misery when Fury had slid into a seat beside him and set his Spider sense tingling. A power move, showing he knew Spider-Man’s secret identity. He’d seemed friendly enough at first, before he became pushy and Peter became defensive. Fury had questioned Peter’s commitment to his “extra-curricular” alter ego. Implied his late mentor would be disappointed in his lack of responsibility. Peter had barely slept in the weeks since he’d been undusted, and he briefly considered taking Fury’s other eye out. Instead he’d just stared at him through red rimmed eyes, imitating a sullen teenager until Fury had left in frustration. 

Fury didn’t get it. Aunt May did. Peter had tried at first, to Spider-Man, to push through the combination of grief, trauma and anxiety post snap. It had resulted in a near constant state of hypervigilance and hyperawareness. Many phones were accidently destroyed for the crime of vibrating. Pigeons were punched at when they flapped past unexpectedly. After Peter put his head through the apartment ceiling when May sneezed they decided it was time for a break. Time to do normal things. 

Navigating in this new, post-apocalyptic world was disorienting enough without web swinging. 

He’d spent his extra time on therapy and catching up on sleep and five years worth of movies with Ned, MJ and even Morgan. Morgan Stark, Tony and Pepper’s daughter, who both amazed and terrified Peter every time he looked at her. His responsibility as Spider-man had never felt as weighty as his newfound responsibility to her now her Dad was gone. 

This trip to Europe with his friends was supposed to cap off his recovery, a reward to celebrate his decision to return to low key, friendly neighbourhood level crime-fighting. 

Instead, Nick Fury had found him. 

And so had terrifying elemental monsters, made from earth, water and fire. 

Cue a reluctant superhero team up with Mysterio, the magician/sorcerer from a different universe, and Peter’s least favourite spy agency. They’d blown up the last monster, a water one, two days ago in Venice, using some on-the-fly wave propagation theory Peter remembered from ninth grade. 

Fury was pissed. He had ordered a sewer splunking adventure for Spider-Man, and an above ground reconnaissance for Mysterio, looking into unusual energy signatures that had popped up each time a battle had gone down, hoping to find monsters. 

All the while Peter’s Spidey-sense had been humming with no reprieve. Putting him firmly back into twitchy, pigeon punching territory. 

So yeah, Director Nick Fury straight up sucks. 

The order to stop talking was timely though. Peter creeps forward on silent feet as he approaches his target, his black combat suit blending his outline into the shadows. His Spidey-sense is going crazy now, zinging across the back of his head and down his arms like multicoloured electric shocks. 

Spider-Man presses himself against the wall and heads upwards. No one ever looks up. Perching at the top of the wall, he slowly pokes his head around the corner. The three tunnels meet in a long, low chamber. In the middle of the room hangs a flat circle of energy, kinetic electricity twisting from the edges into the centre, reflecting off the puddles on the floor. 

“Woah.” Peter breathes. “Trip Advisor did not mention this.” 

Cautiously, he opens a visual feed to SHIELD. Green smoke spirals along the floor of the room and gathers around the centre, pushing up against the portal. 

“Something’s not right.” Peter whispers, his throat mic picking up the hushed tones. “Besides the giant green eye of Sauron in the room.” He amends. 

A movement from the corner of the room has Spider-Man shrinking further into the wall. It’s Quentin, his heavy gold chest plate clinking as he crosses the dark room. His movement disturbs the smoke, and Peter can see two purple triangular devices at the base of the portal, pulsing with that same green energy. 

Quentin crouches at one of the devices and picks it up, causing the portal to twist through the middle like a sheet. The energy sparks off Quentin’s armour, and his hair lifts around the edges. 

Peter taps his watch again, sending a silent signal to Karen to start running scans to figure out what she can about the technology running in the room. 

“Parker, get your ass off the ceiling and help Beck shut that thing down.” Fury’s voice snaps in Peter’s ear, prompting him forwards. 

“Hey man, I thought you were above ground.” Peter calls hesitantly, unwilling to move from his shadowy hiding place. “Fury’s cranky, probably just missing us. We’ll give him extra cuddles at the debriefing.” 

Quentin’s exploration of the device stops momentarily, then he sighs heavily. 

“How did you find this so fast?” He asks, looking up and finding Peter in the corner. 

Hesitantly, Peter crawls forward from his hiding place. Latching one hand to the cool stones, he slowly unrolls himself towards the ground a few metres from Quentin then drops to the floor. 

“Just ran a few calculations, picked up a trace of some other worldly energy, followed it. The usual.” Peter shrugs, pushing his shoulders back, although his feet shuffle unconsciously. 

He circles the room looking at the portal. The portal itself is paper thin along the edges, still folded up towards the base that Quentin is holding. 

“So this is an inter-dimensional gateway huh? Just like you hypothesised. For some reason I thought it would be bigger.” Peter quips as he kicks away the pooling green smoke at his feet. 

“Ladies, this isn’t an ice cream social.” Fury snaps. “Shut that thing down before something else comes through it.” 

“Fury wants us to shut it down. Obviously.” Peter comments to Quentin as he comes back around to the front and squats in front of the second triangular base device, reaching out to touch it. Karen’s running energy outputs through his heads up display, and the readings are uniform. He speaks out loud as he processes the data. 

“Huh, that’s kinda weird. If I’m reading this right, it’s in stand by mode. Unidirectional energy outputs. Manual activation at the base here. So like, someone’s coming down here and letting these things through one at a time. Set up’s pretty light weight too, bet the system is portable. You could conjure monsters from an alternate dimension whenever you felt like it.” 

Quentin contemplates him for a moment. 

“Peter Parker.” He says softly. “So clever.” 

For some reason Peter shivers. The green smoke is leaving a bitter burn on the back of his throat. 

“This portal could probably work both ways. Fancy an inter-dimensional field trip?” Quentin asks from the other side, focused on the device in his hand. 

“No thanks,” Peter shoots back. “I have a bad history with field trips.” 

“Yeah?” Quentin asks. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Got yeeted into outer space during my last one.” Peter regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. They taste funny, like black jelly beans. He wonders if yeet is still a thing. 

“Space. You do get around Spider-Man.” Quentin sets his device back down. 

The numbers on Peter’s display flip, showing energy levels ramping up in the opposite direction. The portal flickers and the green smoke multiplies, swirling around the room. Peter scuttles backwards. 

“Woah! Something’s happening!” He shouts as his display cuts out. He rips the mask from his face and scrambles upright, in time to see the energy around the bases begin to hum. Harsh static crackles in Peter’s ear piece. The smoke twists and Peter’s vision blurs. 

“I reversed the energy flow.” Quentin says simply. “You know, Tony Stark is alive in my universe. There’s probably hundreds of universes where Tony Stark is alive.” Quentin steps in front of the portal. 

Peter’s head snaps up. 

_Mister Stark._

“Why,” Peter’s voice fails in his throat. He shakes his head. He takes a breath and tries again. “Why would you say that?” 

“You miss him right? I could send you straight to him.” 

Mysterio wipes his hand across the green crackling energy like wiping a steam from a bathroom mirror and the surface clears, showing the footpath outside of Stark Tower, looking directly into the lobby. Faint sounds of construction and traffic float from the opening, bouncing around the rank sewer chamber, dropping in and out as Peter’s head spins. Workers in suits and peacoats with their heads buried in their phones push around the portal as if it wasn’t even there, slipping in and out of view. 

“Speak of the devil and he appears.” Mysterio comments as he steps back, giving Peter a direct line of sight into the portal. 

Peter’s frozen, staring straight ahead, across the room and straight into another universe, as Tony Stark steps out of an elevator. Alive, dressed in a three-piece suit, tinted glasses and sardonic smirk on, he strides across the lobby. Alive. 

_Mister Stark._

Peter takes one unsteady step forward, then another, hypnotised. He passes Mysterio, leans closer as though to push his face against the portal’s surface. To be closer. 

The elevator dings again and out steps Pepper, tablet in one hand, miniature pink backpack in the other. 

_Miss Potts. Morgan._

Peter jumps back from the portal. Reels unsteadily around to face Quentin. 

“What are you doing?” He demands, feeling disoriented. He suddenly wishes he was in the Iron Spider suit made of unbreakable nanotech. He raises a hand and taps his ear piece. “Hill? Fury? Are you seeing this?” 

“SHIELD can’t hear you anymore Peter. I disabled your comms.” Quentin says. 

Peter sends his still raised hand forward, aiming a desperate punch at Quentin’s head. He’s frozen by green energy streams shooting from Quentin’s hands and lifted off the ground. He flounders in mid-air, completing a slow motion roll over before stopping on his stomach. It feels familiar, like swimming in jelly. 

“I’m guessing you’re the baddie then.” He says, words slurring slightly. “Checks out. You are a hella weird guy.” 

“You know,” Quentin muses, walking in circles around Spider-Man’s levitating form. “When I was looking through the universes, I saw this one and it was like Christmas morning. Iron man’s dead, Captain America’s old, and Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD, has some seventeen year old kid as his number one hero on speed dial. This world, I thought, is mine for the taking.” 

Quentin smiles ferociously and raises his arms. 

“Are you seriously monologuing right now?” Peter asks, struggling against the energy holding him aloft. He feels weak and foggy. “Fish for brains.” 

_Not his best quip,_ he thinks, but not bad considering. 

“You, Peter Parker,” Quentin points imperiously at him, “shut up! You have been a thorn in my side since I arrived. And now I have the perfect way to get rid of you. You should even thank me for it. I’m sending you off to your beloved Iron Man.” 

Peter gathers his strength and twists his wrist to the side.

“Hard pass Mysterio.” He shouts, shooting a web out. 

Mysterio yells and hurtles Spider-Man forwards towards the portal. The web latches onto one of the purple base plates and Peter yanks it towards himself. The portal warps. He grabs onto the base plate as he tumbles through the room. 

There’s a flash of green energy. 

Smoke swirls. 

The portal folds in on itself with a pop and Peter Parker is gone.


	2. New York, New York?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stay weird, Spy-kid.”
> 
> The billionaire slides his sunglasses back on as he flashes Peter a dismissive peace sign and hops into the back of the waiting Audi. Peter watches in a daze as the car pull into the lane.
> 
> Peter’s suddenly glad for whatever Mysterio dosed him with. It’s a nice cushion between the interaction and his overwhelming desire to curl up and wail.
> 
> He lets out that deep breath.
> 
> _That wasn’t your Tony,_ he reminds himself. _That’s, an AU Tony. Not-Tony. Fake Tony. Faux-ny._

Peter hits the sidewalk fast, folding himself into a neat roll so he skims the surface. He comes out of it in his signature crouch, one hand on the ground. The purple base plate blips into existence behind him, rocketing forwards and making a hollow thud as it smacks into the back of his head. 

“Son of a bitch!” Peter yelps, falling forward onto his knees. 

“Son of a bitch!” A familiar voice yells in response from in front of him. “Where the hell did you come from?” 

Peter springs back to his feet and grabs onto Happy Hogan’s arms. 

“Happy!” Peter exclaims, brain still somersaulting in his skull. “Holy crap! You will not believe what just happened to me!” 

Peter looks wildly about, trying to spot a trace of the portal or supervillain. 

“Beck’s like, a major baddie, and he was all, wingadium levisa sucker! Then he freakin’ tossed me into a portal. Gotta say though, I’m feelin’ a little discombob, discom, sideways now, I think he roofied me, and now, and now I’m-” 

Peter’s babble dries up in his mouth as the lobby doors whoosh open behind Happy’s shoulder. A familiar figure steps smartly through. 

_Mister Stark._

Tony Stark’s goatee is as sharp as ever, but the streaks of grey around his temples and lines etched around his eyes soften his face. Tony pulls off his blue tinted glasses and points at Peter with the corner. 

“Oh-kay weird moment to interrupt, but did I just hear you say someone roofied you?” Tony asks. 

Peter grasps Happy’s arms tighter. Happy yelps and twists out from Peter's grip. 

“Hey, bite-size Bourne Identity,” Tony snaps his fingers twice at Peter. “You with us?” 

“I’m fine Mister Stark.” Peter says on reflex. 

It’s coded into him, to say he’s fine. Even when he’s not. 

“Ohhh, Mister Stark, I like this kid Hap, he’s polite.” Tony says, as Happy walks off, muttering to himself. 

Peter’s frozen there, watching as Tony, _who’s heartbeat I can hear,_ bends down and picks up the purple base plate, _who’s cologne I can smell,_ and turns it over. 

“What’s this for?” he asks. 

“Travel to alternate universes.” Peter replies again like an automaton. 

“HA! Polite and funny. I should interact with the general public more often.” Tony huffs and tosses the housing back to him. 

Peter catches it instinctively. At the curb, Happy waits impatiently beside an idling black town car. Tony’s already turning away. 

But it’s not Tony, not really. Peter knows this. Because whoever this man is, he is not looking at Peter with concern, or exasperation, or fondness, or anything Peter usually sees in Tony’s eyes. He’s walking away from Peter, not looking back over his shoulder, not saying “C’mon kid”, not- 

The man pauses, looks back over his shoulder. 

Peter sucks in a deep breath. 

“Tell you what, you manage to redefine how we understand the singularity, give me a call. I could use another laugh. Enjoy Comicon and stay weird, Spy-kid.” 

The billionaire slides his sunglasses back on as he flashes Peter a dismissive peace sign and hops into the back of the waiting Audi. Peter watches in a daze as the car pull into the lane. 

Peter’s suddenly glad for whatever Mysterio dosed him with. It’s a nice cushion between the interaction and his overwhelming desire to curl up and wail. 

He lets out that deep breath. 

_That wasn’t your Tony,_ he reminds himself. _That’s, an AU Tony. Not-Tony. Fake Tony. Faux-ny._

Desperate for something familiar, Peter looks about. Stark Tower looms above him, a dark metallic black monument in the middle of Manhattan, rather than the bright white he recognises from home. There’s more differences in the streetscape, some subtle, yellow Coke symbol flashing above his head, some more bizarre, like the cars driving on the opposite side of the road. And himself, who is attracting some side glances in his black stealth suit from the business people pressing past him. 

He ducks into an alley and takes a steadying breath. Judging by what he's seen so far, this universe isn't too far from the one he's used to, in terms of urban form and day to day technologies. Like a sort of parallel universe, where a recent major event caused a timeline to split, resulting in mostly similar but slightly different world development. 

_Focus Pete._ Peter can hear his mentor's voice in his head. _Assess your resources first._

“Karen, are you with me?” Peter asks. 

A distorted series of beeps crackle through his broken earpiece. Something’s responding to him, even without his mask. Peter reboots the web shooters, sighing with relief when the system blinks back online and his holographic wrist displays encase his arm. 

HELLO PETER, a message blinks from Karen. I DETECT WE ARE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE. 

He huffs a laugh as he starts a diagnostic program for his equipment and Karen while emptying his various pockets. He finds 14 euros, a packet of gummy bears, an industrial grade glow stick and some spare web fluid and batteries. 

One day, Peter’s going to drop that glow stick down a very long tunnel. It’s one of his life goals right now. He’s keeping things simple post-return. 

Out of his ankle holster he pulls the souped-up pocket knife Tony, Real-Tony, gave him for his sixteenth birthday. He and Ned call it his sonic screwdriver. Tony banned the name but Peter will be damned if the reference isn’t why Tony included the blue laser at the end of it. 

He shoves the items back into his pockets along with his gloves, earpiece and throat mic. No mask, that’s probably still on the sewers in Paris. On quick inspection his armour is all still intact. 

He really needs to find some less conspicuous clothes. 

Jumping onto a fire escape, Peter scales the side of the building, listening out in all directions for the tell-tale flapping of a clothes line. Nothing. Just random and persistent buzzing sounds. Peter’s puzzling it out as he hops over the edge of the roof. 

Something large flies at his head and Peter yells, kicking it out of the air. His air-born assailant skitters across the roof. 

Approaching cautiously, he finds pieces of a broken drone and a ripped parcel boxes. Between the skyscrapers, other drones zip about, laden with boxes. 

He can smell pizza wafting from one and considers chasing it down. 

_How does Spider-Man web sling with so many flying projectiles in the city?_ Peter wonders, then starts. There’s another thing he needs to watch out for. Spider-Man, even though this universe’s Tony Stark and Peter Parker are clearly not acquainted. 

_Would a Parallel Peter Parker might be able to help him? What are the rules for multiverse travel anyway? Same as time travel or different?_ Peter ponders out loud while he pokes through the ripped packages strewn across the rooftop. Clothing spill out of a few of them. Peter hesitates. He’s never stolen anything in his life. _Could he steal something_

PETER. His wrist blinks at him. I AM HAVING DIFFICULTY CONNECTING TO ANY EXTERNAL NETWORKS. CAN YOU FIND ME A TERMINAL? 

Karen’s interruption provides a solid prompt for the next stage of his plan, which is to find a way home. A public library will work fine for gathering some background information on this world and connecting up Karen Peter decides. The Tower would be better, but as he glances back towards it he shudders. He’d prefer to avoid Not-Tony where possible. 

But first, he’ll have to steal some clothes. 

He paws through the mess of the damaged deliveries. Peter’s laugh escapes as a harsh bark when he uncovers a copy of “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”, a fluffy towel, and an oversized maroon hoodie stating “Don’t Panic!”. He slips the sweater on straight over his suit and it hangs nearly to his knees. Ripping paper off a shoe box, he unpacks combat boots, a few sizes too big that slip straight over his suit feet. 

Glancing down at himself, he decides it’s definitely a look, but nothing to surprise people of New York. 

Yanking open more parcels, he finds tissues, gummy bears, kitchen stuff, some notebooks, and a phone. The last parcel he opens has a black backpack with the unmistakable Ironman logo across the front. 

“Looters can’t be choosy.” he comments to Karen as he stuffs the towel, phone, books and portal base into the bag. 

He drops quickly off the roof, his new combat boots clunking heavily against the ground. 

As he steps back onto the street, hands pulling on his backpack straps, he keeps an eye out for Parallel Peter Parker, shoving away every feeling except the strange excitement about meeting himself. 

He absolutely doesn’t think about Not-Tony Stark. 

* * *

It turns out, running into Parallel Peter Parker in New York wouldn’t be happening anyway, because Parallel Peter Parker is dead.

Peter leans forward in his chair at the Manhattan library, resting his head beside the computer screen, the image of a 14 year old Peter and Ben Parker, smiling together over scoops of ice cream, imprinted in his brain. 

Peter Parker in this universe had died, alongside Uncle Ben and the thief who stole his wallet. All three dead on that street. Ben, a single gunshot. The thief, a head injury. And Peter, in this universe, who was brave enough to try to save his uncle, three gunshots. 

Peter's breath comes faster. He can feel his fingers start to shake as he curls them. He'd always felt like he could've done something, he should've done something, to save Ben that night. 

And here, in this universe, a near decade old news report showing a universe where Peter had tried, and failed. A universe where Peter still lost Ben, then lost his own life, and May lost them both. 

Of everything that's happened today, this might send him over the edge. 

He wants to go home. Right now. 

He wants out of this strange place. 

_Hold on_ , Peter’s head whips back. _Strange._

Peter pulls forward the keyboard in his eagerness, pulling up a street-view of Bleeker St. At least, that’s what he intends to do. What comes out instead is a garbled mess of letters in the search bar. The keyboard layout is different in this universe, and Peter’s muscle memory keeps tripping him up, making all typing excruciatingly slow. 

It’s the main reason Peter dismissed his previous plan to attempt to hack the SHEILD database for information regarding Quentin Beck. That and the fact he is sitting in a PUBLIC LIBRARY. He can’t even use Karen fully, she’s still updating her files for new universe via the desktop and her processing capacity is reduced when she’s unable to access her larger network. 

Staring at his hands this time, he slowly and deliberately types out the address, cheering internally as the directions come up. He could be home in no time. 

Peter runs all the way to 117A Bleeker Street, his heavy boots thumping on the pavement the whole way. 

* * *

“Back in 5” Says the note on the door. 

_Five what?_

Did Peter mention he hates magic? And magicians, sorcerers, wizards and their cloak wearing, nonspecific, untimely brethren? 

Peter bangs the back of his head against the heavy wooden door again, hearing the heavy thud of his unenthusiastic version of knocking echo in the empty house behind the door. He sits on the steps of the brownstone, in almost the same position he’s been in since he arrived and found the doors and windows locked. The sun has set, and not so much as a candle has flickered on inside the sanctum. 

“Karen, how long has it been now?” Peter asks. 

“6 hours, 21 and a half minutes.” Her voice filters pleasantly through his now repaired earpiece. 

“And haven’t I felt every second of it.” Peter mutters. 

He stretches out on the step, tipping the sugar from the bottom of the gummy bear packet into his mouth. 

“Objectively speaking, this time represents the most relaxation you have had since your European holiday started. After repairing the earpiece, you have had 6 hours and 18 minutes of unregulated free time without increased heart rate due to conflict, combat or sexual arousal. You even took a nap and read a book. I’m very proud of you Peter.” 

Karen sounds pleased. Peter not so much. 

“Okay one, we agreed that you will stop referring to my hormone-induced anxiety. Just because you pick it up on the bio monitors doesn’t mean you have to comment on it all the time. And two, I can’t afford downtime. While I wait here for a wizard Mysterio could be tearing half of our Europe apart.” 

Peter rips a page from the notebook he stole and scribbles a quick note for Dr Strange, explaining the circumstances as best he can without rambling, and shoves it through the mail slot. 

“Alright Karen, we need a computer capable of running quantum simulations and hacking SHEILD plus somewhere private to pull apart the portal device within a reasonable swing distance. And, go.” 

“The closest area meeting your requirements is Stark Tower.” Karen responds, just as Peter suspects she would. 

“That isn’t Stark Tower.” He amends. “And, go.” 

“The closest locations matching your requirements are the Wakandan outreach centre, or Empire State University labs. I have to warn you however, that I will be unable to hack into the outreach centre, and the ESU has heightened security measures including military guards following research contracts with the Department of Defense.” Karen says. 

Peter sighs, skipping down the steps and heading for the closest alleyway. 

“Can we at least hope the Stark family isn’t home tonight.” He asks her. 

“We can always hope, Peter.” Karen says. 

He knows it’s just her programming, but the warmth in Karen’s voice helps him swing a little more smoothly up into the night. He aims himelf towards the towers middle balcony, telling himself that for the first time in his life he hopes he won’t see Tony Stark again. 

* * *


	3. The Eighty Fourth Floor, Stark Tower

Peter lands soundlessly on the side of Stark Tower and continues slinging himself steadily upwards, the wind whistling past his exposed ears. He heads to his usual access point, the secondary helipad at the Tower's Medbay. 

Overshooting the platform, Peter lands above the door and hangs upside down from a web. He stares for a moment at the biometric scanner, then reaches out to the door and knocks quietly. 

“FRIDAY, can you please let me in?” he whispers. 

“Unauthorised access request to high security area.” FRIDAY replies. "But points given for the highly irregular attempt. I will be alerting building security unless you leave now." 

“Wait wait wait!" Peter stutters. "FRIDAY, meet Karen. She's like, your sister from another mother. She can explain what's going on." 

Karen hums in Peter's ear as her automatic synch function activates. 

Peter spins slowly on his web, completing three full rotations before FRIDAY speaks again. 

“Identity requirements satisfied. Access request granted.” FRIDAY says. 

“Welcome, Peter Parker.” 

“Thanks FRI,” Peter says, flipping down through the door. “Please don’t notify anyone that I’m here, including and especially Mister Stark.” FRIDAY hums, as though she's thinking. 

"Promise not to blow anything up?" She asks. 

Peter mimes drawing an X across his heart. 

"I will not contact Tony unless it becomes necessary. Take some food from the Medbay fridge, Karen's data indicates you have eaten only gummy worms in the past 10 hours." 

"Thanks FRIDAY, you're the best!" He exclaims. 

Peter bounds over to the fridge and sweeps as many sandwiches and juice boxes into his backpack as will fit. He grabs some electrolyte replacement as well, sculling it before creeping into the hallway. 

“FRIDAY, I’m probably going to need a computer capable of quantum simulations, seeing as I’m messing about with travelling between universes. Where can I find one of those?” He asks. 

“Technically, Mr Parker, the most capable computer for that is me. However, if you need me to run simulations for you, you will need to access the terminal in my mainframe.” FRIDAY replies. 

The mainframe in Tony’s lab. Peter was hoping to avoid the primary lab altogether. Peter heads through the darkened building up to the lab, listening cautiously for sounds of waking tower occupants. The glass door of the main lab slide smoothly open for him. 

The space a sophisticated concrete and steel one like the one Peter is familiar with, but with noticeably one less workspace. All of the bench tops are spotless, tools away and the iron suits hanging neatly in their casings. A low blue light gleams off the buffed surfaces. 

"Um, FRIDAY." Peter shuffles his feet. "This Tony isn't evil or anything is he?" 

"Why do you ask?" FRIDAY says. 

"It's like, creepily clean in here.” 

“A new procedure implemented by Mrs Stark, to encourage Morgan to clean her room.” 

“Oh.” 

Peter slings his bag onto the main desk and removes the portal device, rolling it over in his hands. Ignoring the power button for now. He learnt his lesson about messing with technology he doesn’t understand from the Vulture, and the last thing he wants to be accidentally blasted into yet another universe. 

“How do you know I’m not evil?” He asks as he grabs a screwdriver and begins prying the purple metal housing on the contraption open. 

FRIDAY and Karen hum simultaneously, as though laughing. 

He hooks the circuit board he finds inside up to a battery, and connects the programming interface to FRIDAY. He focuses on the read out, chattering inanely to the AI’s as he does. 

“I could be a bad guy. I could be like, one friend request from Supreme Leader Snoke away from flipping to the dark side.” He says. “Oh, it’s an amplifier. It’s just amplifying energy of some kind. But what kind of energy-“ 

The lab door whooshes open. 

Peter yelps and springs to the ceiling as Morgan Stark pads in, hair sleep mussed in a blue nightgown. 

Both kids freeze as they stare at each other. Morgan pulls her thumb from her mouth, eyes narrowing. 

“Who are you?” She asks. 

“Hey there Morgan.” Peter says uneasily, unfolding himself off the ceiling, dropping onto the desk and stepping back onto the floor. “I’m Peter. I’m a, a close friend of your Dad’s. I’m just borrowing his computer for a bit.” 

“What for?” she asks. 

“I’m a bit lost actually, and I’m trying to work out home to get home.” Peter says. 

“You don’t need Dad’s computer for that.” Morgan says scornfully. “You just use maps on your phone.” 

“You’re totally right Morganasaurous Rex. But I’m really, really far from home, and we don’t have a map for that yet.” Peter replies. 

Morgan nods seriously and wanders over to the desk, pulling herself onto the stool. 

“You’re in uncharted territory.” She says. 

“I am.” Peter says, smiling a little down at her. Morgan and he had become great lab buddies. 

“What’s your plan then?” Morgan asks. 

“Well, I’m looking for an energy signature that vibrates at a little bit of a different frequency then the other particles in this universe, and now I’m going to look for other places in the city that are vibrating at a different speed, to see if there’s a door somewhere left open for me.” 

Peter contemplates that for a moment. 

“Failing that, I’m hoping a wizard gets in contact with me.” 

Morgan nods, as though this makes perfect sense. 

“Dad says the wizard is always Plan F.” 

He reaches over and ruffles her hair. 

“Well your Dad has more resources than I do. You should go back to bed.” He says. 

Morgan smacks her hand against the table. “Want to stay here.” 

Peter recognises this tired Morgan face, it’s one lip wobble away from a major meltdown, which would likely result in alarms from FRIDAY and running parents. It’s not wise to keep her here, but otherwise she’ll notify the whole tower. 

Sighing, Peter fishes a tablet out of the desk drawer and a stylus. 

Besides, Peter thinks, Morgan’s kind of the only real person in this world who knows who he is. 

“Do you want to help me draw a map to my door?” He asks Morgan and she enthusiastically agrees. 

He does a quick sweep of the lab, making sure nothing dangerous or explosive is lying around as Morgan props herself on the desk across from him. 

The mini scientist natters away in the background about pirates and particles as Peter runs through various scans with FRIDAY. 

Peter’s still probing for inconsistencies in the fabric of the universe when Morgan’s head starts dropping towards her tablet. Peter scoops her out of the stool with one hand. 

“Oof Mo, what have you been eating, dark matter? Karen is our Mo this heavy?” he comments as he walks around the lab, pulling blankets and a pillow out of the cupboard with his free hand and kicking the door shut behind him. 

“Morgan is perfect.” Karen’s voice sounds amused. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter waves vaguely at the ceiling with the pillow. “You’re programmed to say that.” 

He gently places Morgan on the couch, covering her up and crouching next to her. He brushes her hair back from her face and drops a kiss on her head. In every universe Morgan is adorable. 

“Goodnight Mo, love you three thousand.” He whispers. 

His words echo oddly for a second and his Spider-sense send a rising tingle at the back of his neck. Peter lifts his head, then tenses at the sound of a charging repulsor. _Not good._

* * *


	4. The Lab of Not-Tony Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony purses his lips. This situation is feeling more off by the second and the kid looks devastated. Even in the low lighting Tony can see his raised hands shaking. 
> 
> “Okay kid, I don’t like people messing with my family or my stuff, so you’ve got about 10 seconds to explain to me what you’re doing or I blast you to kingdom come.” Tony say. 
> 
> “Um, that’s actually an interesting story.” Peter stammers.

Tony wanders down the hallway rubbing sleep from his eyes. It’s 2 am and despite his best efforts, he’s woken up again. From that same dream. The dream that he and Pepper had a kid. A boy. 

He had that dream repeatedly for a full year before Morgan was born. Once Morgan came, he thought the dreams would end but they didn’t. The same dream each time that he can never quite remember. He just knows each time he’s left feeling like his world is off kilter for a few hours. Something he resolves by building things until it goes away. 

_Who am I kidding,_ Tony tells himself, _it never goes away._

Tony’s continues wrestling down his post-dream ennui when he spots movement in his lab. He slows to a halt when he sees an unfamiliar outline against FRIDAY’s holographic displays, scooping up a smaller form he immediately recognises as his daughter. 

“FRIDAY, open audio.” Tony commands quietly, panic rising in his chest. He activates his wrist gauntlet. 

“Oof Mo, what have you been eating, dark matter? Karen, is our Morgan this heavy?” The intruder asks. 

The voice is male, young and conversational, and the tone affectionate, which is cutting through Tony’s panic as the stranger deposits Morgan on the couch. 

Tony quickly categorises all he can about the intruder. 

Short, wearing combat looking flexible armour of some kind, far too familiar with Tony’s lab and daughter. A second voice, a woman, Tony can’t identify where she’s situated, echoes in the room. 

“FRIDAY, lock down the tower. Send Pep to the panic room. Open the lab doors on my command.” Tony commands. 

He takes a deep breath, steadies himself then raises his hand. 

Tony’s blood runs cold as the stranger in black kisses his kid on the forehead and says “Goodnight Mo, love you three thousand.” 

The doors slide open soundlessly as the man’s phrase echoes out of FRIDAY’s speakers. 

“Get the hell away from my kid.” Tony growls, raising his gauntlet. 

The man in black freezes for a moment, then turns slowly on his heel and straightens up, raising his hands above his head as he does. He’s young, eyes wise and loose curls fluffing around his face. He’s somewhat familiar, and the second he opens his mouth it clicks. 

“You!” Tony accuses. “You’re the Spy-kid! From this morning.” 

“Keep your voice down!” The young man whispers, shooting a worried look at Morgan’s sleeping figure. 

Tony’s so surprised he almost drops his hand. 

“Step away from her.” He repeats. 

The kid complies, backing up towards the workstation as Tony circles around the edge of the room towards his daughter. 

“FRIDAY who is this, and how did they get in here.” Tony demands. 

He gets to the couch and reaches one hand down, checking Morgan’s pulse. 

“Sir, this is Peter Parker. Mr Parker had appropriate access approval for entry to all levels of STARK Industries.” FRIDAY replies. 

“And his accomplice? Karen or whatever, where’s she hiding?” Tony asks. 

“I am here Tony. It’s nice to see you again Sir.” An unknown female voice comes from FRIDAY’s speakers. 

“You corrupted my AI?” Tony accuses Peter. 

“No, no sorry Mister Stark,” Peter holds one hand out towards Tony, a stricken look on his face. “That’s my AI, Karen, she’s synched with FRIDAY while I work.” 

“Mr Parker’s AI is compatible with my coding and appears to be developed for automatic integration with my systems.” FRIDAY notes. “I saw no harm seeing as it is a derivative of my own code developed by yourself.” 

Tony purses his lips. This situation is feeling more off by the second and the kid looks devastated. Even in the low lighting Tony can see his raised hands shaking. 

“Okay kid, I don’t like people messing with my family or my stuff, so you’ve got about 10 seconds to explain to me what you’re doing or I blast you to kingdom come.” Tony say. 

“Um, that’s actually an interesting story.” Peter stammers. 

“10..9…” Tony counts down. 

“I was pushed through some sort of portal between universes and I’m actually just borrowing FRIDAY to help me find a rift in the universe so I can go back home again.” Peter says without pausing for breath. 

“Ridiculous answer, try again kid.” Tony states. 

“No wait I can show you!” Peter says hastily and reaches back to the table. 

“Stop!” Tony yells and sets off a blast towards Peter. 

Peter twists away, hitting the ceiling and hanging there for a second. Tony re-aims and fires again, and again, trying to preempt the kid’s gracefully flipping form as he slips fluidly around the room, making no discernible distinction between up and down as he effortlessly dodges the concussive blasts. 

“Daddy?” 

Morgan’s hand on his knee distracts Tony momentarily and he sets off a rouge blast into the main workbench. The tech on the table smacks into the ground. 

It lets out a blast of green energy which rolls across the room. Peter drops from the ceiling with a grunt and lays there stunned. 

Tony blinks as the green wave passes harmlessly through them. 

Tony grabs at Morgan, pushing her behind him as a second wave of energy rolls out of the device. 

Peter gasps and clutches his head as the green wave swells over him and then he flickers flashing red, blue, green and a shadow of black before dispersing into pixels and reforming almost instantaneously. 

Tony’s watch beeps an emergency tone and FRIDAY throws up a holographic alert. 

Morgan screams and launches herself off the couch towards Peter. Tony grabs at her shirt and yanks her back, despite feeling himself like running to the boy. Peter throws a trembling hand out towards Morgan, palm up in a stop sign. 

The holographic alert is still running in the background -Spider Boo Boo protocol notification-abnormal activity detected biodata.recommend follow up ASAP- 

“What the heck.” Tony breathes out, as FRIDAY scrolls through a series of tagged with functions like heart rate, respiration rate, blood pressure in the background. 

Morgan pulls against his grasp, reaching out for the boy laying on the ground. 

“I’m okay Mo,” Peter wheezes. “Just stay with Dad for a second.” 

Tony’s heart twists uncomfortably as the boy drops back onto the ground, eyes slightly unfocused. 

“Karen what was that?” Peter asks. 

“I don’t know Peter,” come the AI’s smooth voice. “It appears you disappeared for a moment and reappeared.” 

“Like disappeared like gone?” Peter’s voice wobbles on the last word. 

“FRIDAY?” Tony asks. 

“My scans concur. Mr Parker ceased to exist on this plane for a moment, then reformed.” 

“Stopped existing? Like dusted?” Peter asks. 

His breaths are coming out short and fast now. Tony recognises the signs of an oncoming anxiety attack as Peter curls in on himself, pushing the side of his face into the floor and arms over his head. Tony hoists Morgan into his arms and turns to step away. It’s the perfect opportunity to get Morgan out of there. 

And yet he hesitates. 

_He’s just a kid._ A voice in Tony’s head whispers, looking at shaking figure on the floor. 

Karen interrupts the moment. 

“Peter, It’s Karen. I’m going to talk you through your grounding exercises now. Repeat after me if you can. Your name is Peter Parker. Your alias is Spiderman. You are seventeen years old. You were born in 2001 on August Tenth. You are an Avenger. Your best friends are MJ, Ned and Morgan and they love you very much. Would you like to recite the periodic table by atomic weight with me?” 

Tony listens intently as Peter mumbles his way through the familiar exercise, his voice getting stronger with each word until he sounds almost normal by the time they hit Lithium. 

“Jeez Karen.” Peter rolls over onto his back and sucks a huge breath. “We’ve got to figure out a version of that that doesn’t give away all my secrets.” 

“Baby Monitor Protocol subsection A prohibits me from keeping secrets from Tony Stark.” Karen supplies helpfully. 

“I guess I should get around to shutting that off.” Peter says resignedly from the floor. 

He raises his head towards where Tony hovers with Morgan near the couch. As if he can sense the man’s indecision he continues talking. 

“Why don’t you take Morgan upstairs to Pepper, you’ll feel better with them both in the panic room. You can kick Karen out of FRIDAY or check her code and speak with FRIDAY to see why she let us in the first place. Um, maybe put that device thingy in a containment unit. I’ll go in the box. It’s laminated glass right, reinforced for explosion protection? Call an iron suit too, for sentry duty, to watch me.” 

Tony purses his lips, reluctant to follow the kids plan but admitting it’s a good one. Tony places Morgan outside the lab door, not dropping his gauntlet until the Mark XLVII is online. He ignores Morgan’s face pressing against the glass lab doors as he drops a containment unit on the device on the floor. Hesitating again, he tosses a pair of vibranium cuffs towards Peter. 

“Put these on too.” He instructs, forcing himself to sound firm. 

Peter complies meekly and steps into the centre of the room as Tony lowers the explosion testing box from the ceiling around him. 

“Wait,” Tony pauses the unit mid-air. “Are you armed?” 

“What? No!” Peter shakes his head furiously. 

“Peter I must disclose to Sir that you are still wearing your webshooters.” Karen chimes in. 

“Oh” The kid’s eyes go comically wide, and he stammers an explanation as he detaches two devices from his wrist, twisting awkwardly around the handcuffs. “They aren’t really weapons, they are like, fight assist I guess?” 

He drops them to the floor and kicks them over to Tony. Tony nods and drops the box down around Peter as the Iron Man suit readjusts its sentry position. 

“Okay Morgan, I’m taking you to Mum now.” Tony steps out of the lab and hoists her onto his hip. 

“I have to say goodnight to Peter.” Morgan says. 

“No you don’t.” Tony replies. 

“Goodnight Peter!” Morgan yells into Tony’s ear, waving enthusiastically over his shoulder into the lab. “Thanks for the juice box! Sorry Daddy shot at you!” 

“It’s okay Mo, the old man isn’t fast enough to hit me!” He calls back, “Sleep tight!” 

Tony pauses, looking back at Peter waving awkwardly with his hands cuffed together. Peter seems calm now, but Tony’s heart twists uncomfortably at the sight of the boy in the glass box. Peter makes eye contact with Tony, and send him a small smile, as though he knows Tony is stalling. 

“For the record, I would have come up with this plan myself.” Tony states, as though that statement was why he was hesitating at the open door. 

Peter’s head nods so hard it looks like it might fall off. 

“I know you would have.” Peter reassures him. 

Tony turns again to leave, but not before shooting Peter another hard glance. Looking at the boy feels like déjà vu, like Tony knows what his facial expression will look like before it crosses his face. 

* * *

Unlocking the penthouse panic room, Tony is greeted by a frustrated looking Pepper. Scanning them up and down, she lets out a huff when she realises they’re both unhurt. 

“Tony, what on earth is going on out there?” She demands, reaching for Morgan. “I’ve been sitting here for 15 minutes waiting for someone to open this damn door up.” 

“Daddy took my friend Peter captive. I hope he lets him out soon. He was telling me about space raccoons and I was drawing him a map to track universes.” Morgan says. 

Pepper pauses her fussing with Morgan’s hair, raising an eyebrow. 

Tony shrugs. 

“Kid can do triple backflips and says he comes from an alternate universe. I have it under control, I think. Just stay in here until I can confirm that.” Tony tells her. 

“I think he might be my favourite person I ever met.” Tony hears Morgan say before the panic room door slides closed again. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony meet again! What did you think?
> 
> Luckily Tony didn't manage to blast Morgan's new best friend away, but now it's time for Tony to investigate the strange boy he's taken captive. 
> 
> Trying to get this story out before FFH is released (and also I go on holidays!) 
> 
> Thanks for the awesome comments and feedback,


	5. The Timeout Box, Not-Tony’s Lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony watches as the first so called “Elemental” is introduced in Prague, and Fury’s insistence on recruiting the kid becomes apparent. Through a disorienting first person viewpoint of Peter’s heads up display, Tony watches a brief but furious fight between Mysterio and the giant lava monster, which Peter brings to a fast conclusion by hurling a fire engine down it’s gaping mouth then knocking it into the Vltava with a second truck. 
> 
> Tony rewinds that sequence twice, listening to the kid’s war cry as he releases the truck towards the enormous mound of molten rock. 
> 
> “FRIDAY,” he asks faintly, “How much do fire trucks weigh?” 

When Tony gets back to the lab Peter’s lying down on his back in the middle of the box, tapping his fingers rapidly against his stomach, face twisted in concentration. Tony studies him for a moment, then steps forwards and knocks on the glass. 

Peter’s eyes snap open and he turns his head. It’s that clear eyed, vulnerable stare into Tony’s eyes again, until Peter’s eye’s flit away to look pointedly at the wall behind Tony’s shoulder. 

“You’ve got to teach Morgan about stranger danger again,” Peter says, voice muffled by the thick glass. “Cos clearly something is not sticking.” 

Peter suddenly looks guilty and springs to his feet. 

“Not that I would ever do anything to harm her. But like, she was way more interested in my space stories and juice boxes than alerting you guys there was a stranger in your lab-“ 

Tony raises a hand, cutting him off. 

“You need to take it from the top for me, Spy-kid, and I can already tell you’re a babbler, so keep it brief.” 

“It’s actually Spider-Man.” Peter studiously ignore the face Tony pulls at the name. “Okay so I solidly blame all of this on Nick Fury.” 

“Nick Fury?” Tony says with distaste. 

“Trust me, I know,” Peter replies, “I tried really hard not to get involved, but then he hijacked my summer European vacation, plus there were these insane monsters tearing up national monuments and by that point I really couldn’t say no.” 

“No one else could do it? He had to call in a teeny bopper?” Tony asks. 

“Ah, none of the other Avengers were available.” Peter shifts on the spot. “I’m qualified, honest, and enhanced. I’ve just been, on stress leave I guess.” 

“Stress leave? For fourteen year olds?” Tony repeats incredulously. 

“I’m seventeen.” Peter mutters rebelliously, dropping his chin. 

“Okay,” Tony concedes, holding his palms up. “So you’re a Teen Titan. How does the alternate universe thing play in?” 

“Fury paired me up with a guy, Quentin Beck? Goes by Mysterio? He said he was from an alternate universe, although he did not explain the science behind that, and we fought some elemental monsters together. We were trying to track how they were travelling into our universe, and Karen and I tracked the energy signature to a portal below Paris, then Mysterio revealed himself to be a bad dude and literally threw me through a portal into your universe. So, ta-da, here I am.” Peter concludes, bobbing a little on the spot. 

“And you came to me?” Tony asks. 

“I actually went to Dr Strange first. I really, didn’t want to come here.” Peter’s eyes drop away from Tony again, not fast enough to hide the flash of pain in them with his admission. 

“Firstly, I’m hurt you went to the wizard, he has third-rate facial hair. Secondly, you wouldn’t happen to have any evidence to back that up you could give me?” Tony asks. 

“Yeah totally!” Peter nods enthusiastically again. “Check in with Karen, I haven’t disabled her automatic updates yet and they’ll be synched in with FRIDAY now, you’ve got access to the highlights reel for the six weeks. If it’s not too much trouble, could you check the SHIELD database for me? See what they have on Beck?” 

Tony nods to him and darkens the glass of the box to blackout before getting to work. 

* * *

FRIDAY was right, Tony sees when pulling up the currently deactivated AI, Karen, on his screens. The coding is flawless, derived from FRIDAY’s own parent code and the sprawling subsystems are as consistent to Tony’s style as anything programmed into his Iron suits. Just far more monitoring and safety protocols in place. 

He sets FRIDAY to work hacking into SHIELD to look for the Spider-Kid, Peter Parker, multiverses and Quentin Beck as he settles into his workstation and pulls up the Baby Monitor protocol. 

The footage is categorised with tags including “Highlights reel” and “Happy’s cliff notes”. The last one contains a rundown of statistics, compiled once a week, divided by activity and threat level. 

Tony also finds a separate private flagging system which includes the tags “For the brag book”, “Spider boo boo” and “Bring puppies”. 

_What in the hell?_

Tony separates the commands “Bring puppies” tag and “Spider boo boo”. These are set up for urgent notification to Tony Stark and someone called May Parker personally. 

Tony grabs his left wrist, rubbing his fingers around his wrist as he considers the implications. He glances at his watch, realising the Spider boo boo protocol had activated earlier with the kid’s episode. 

Shrugging off his discomfort, he instructs FRIDAY to bring up anything pertaining to the story Peter had just given him. 

Immediately, a number of files pop up. The first few are “Brag book” files, of Peter and some other kids mugging for the camera in front of various European monuments, before a first person video file of Nick Fury and Maria Hill in some dungeon pops up. 

Tony listens incredulously as Nick Fury bullies Peter into a mission, despite the kid politely declining. Fury tosses the word “legacy” and “responsibility” around repeatedly, clearly knowing what buttons to push to manipulate the kid into agreeing. 

Quentin Beck is introduced. Tony has FRIDAY run his face through the software. 

Tony watches as the first so called “Elemental” is introduced in Prague, and Fury’s insistence on recruiting the kid becomes apparent. Through a disorienting first person viewpoint of Peter’s heads up display, Tony watches a brief but furious fight between Mysterio and the giant lava monster, which Peter brings to a fast conclusion by hurling a fire engine down it’s gaping mouth then knocking it into the Vltava with a second truck. 

Tony rewinds that sequence twice, listening to the kid’s war cry as he releases the truck towards the enormous mound of molten rock. 

“FRIDAY,” he asks faintly, “How much do fire trucks weigh?” 

On the screen showing footage of Peter in his darkened cell, he glances guiltily about. 

The second attack Tony watches through grainy security cameras that highlights Peter and a group of teens sight-seeing on the canals of Venice. Tony recognises the bridges and bobbing boats dotted about the blue waters. 

This time the monster emerges from beneath the canal, and it’s almost like the boy, face fully exposed and clad in casual clothes, is being targeted. The towering pillar of water picks him up and slams him into the exposed cornices of the Rialto bridge. 

Tony rubs his jaw anxiously as Quentin Beck, Mysterio guy, shows up in a streak of green smoke and warns Peter off the fight. The kid disappears from the footage but an audio overlay activates, as Peter asks Karen for ideas on how to build a bomb out of a boat engine. Banging and clanking noises mix with Peter's rapid fire narration of how he's maximising the payload while Mysterio blasts green lights at the monster. 

There’s a brief silence, then Peter announces the bomb is ready. 

Peter’s small body pop up from below a boat deck and start waving his arms, screaming insults at the water monster. As the swell of water advances on him, he twists, shooting a cord from his wrist and swinging out of the way. The monster reaches for him then the boat immersed in its belly detonates, sending the monster to droplets with a dull “Whump”. 

“Aw man,” Peter says quietly to Karen, “can’t believe I had to blow up another phone.” 

Tony’s momentarily reassured by a message to Karen from Happy Hogan, instructing Peter to stay put, but something obviously happens in between, because the next sequence shows a brief visual of a green glowing portal, then a garbled instruction from Fury before the screen blinks with a signal lost notification. 

“Boss” FRIDAY interjects, making Tony jump. “SHIELD files are available.” 

Spinning on his chair to the second terminal, Tony pulls up the SHIELD files on a second holographic display. 

”FRIDAY,” Tony instructs, “keep running anything useful from highlight reels in the background while I read.” 

The first file is for a Quentin Beck, stage name Mysterio. 

In the background, a compilation video of a colourful superhuman stopping crime runs. _Colourful superhuman kid_ , Tony reminds himself as he watches the figure trade blows and quips with criminals. He catches himself snorting a few times. The Spider-kid is funny. 

Beck’s file is surprisingly short for someone unleashing a big bad on an alternate planet Earth. Tony flicks through a rap sheet of a few random crimes, street performances without a licence, breaking and entering, minor weapons charges. He’s listed as working for a film company. 

Tony is distracted by drone footage of Peter back flipping on a tight rope strung between two buildings. Each time Spider-Kid gains more confidence and bounces higher. With a final flip the teen lets out a whoop and drops off the rope. Tony gasps when the small figure in red and blue shoots something out of his wrist and catches himself, looping in a long arch down the street and into the sunset, drone buzzing behind him. 

_Tensile strength must be off the charts_ Tony thinks to himself, asking Karen where the equipment came from. 

He senses no small amount of pride in her voice as she tells Tony Peter invented it himself, and currently holds patents for a derivative formula used in compressed field dressings, as well as a delivery apparatus. 

Nose back in Mysterio’s file, Tony notes the man was excommunicated from something called the “Occult of Darkness” cult. He frowns. 

_How exactly is the man too weird for a cult?_

Tony flips to the next file, on the multiverse, and scrolls through data gathered by SHIELD agents. It documents an increasing frequency of energy pulses across the world starting up a few months ago. Readouts of the energy surges are provided, but no records of anyone seeing them in person. It’s linked to a file on the Quantum Realm, which Tony opens. 

A video still pops up of the Spider-Man volunteering at a shelter, and later that same week holding an enormous check from the Stark Relief Foundation to the same place tagged “For the brag book.” 

A video marked R, and “Bring puppies” shows the first-person perspective as Peter administers first aid to a stabbing victim, giving calm reassurance despite the blood leaking steadily around his shaking hands. 

Tony watches more, transfixed by the smart talking teenager in spandex. He's staring to understand why his AU counterpart got involved with the teen. Peter's brand of super hero action seems to include everything from carrying groceries and finding lost children to counselling suicidal people on roofs and stopping runaway trains. 

Peter’s New York is shabbier around the edges than the New York Tony is familiar with. Alongside that, murals to Iron Man litter the sides of buildings. Other Avengers are represented, even the Spider-Kid, but the Iron Man murals are excessive even to Tony’s ego. 

He shifts uncomfortably, pulling his attention back to the files. He’s at Peter Parker’s file, which was buried deeper in SHIELD’s database. 

He flicks the tab open, the file a mess of redacted, encoded information and a school photo of a young, bright eyed Peter Parker smiling sweetly at the camera. Tony runs a decoding program, unlocking the first line of data. 

ASSET DECEASED. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends this was only supposed to be 4 chapters long but the scenes totally have a mind of their own.
> 
> HELP!
> 
> Next chapter brings some Whump, sorry.


	6. Still in the Timeout Box, Not-Tony’s lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy hell.” Peter leaps to his feet. “I was fighting MOVIE MONSTERS?!”  
> A trailer of the movie loads and Peter lets out another warble at a higher pitch.  
> “Is that MJ?!” He shrieks.

“So,” Not-Tony says as the tinting on Peter’s makeshift cell lightens, “you’re supposed to be dead.”  


Peter is still laying on the floor, his hoodie pulled up around his ears, concentrating on ignoring his current situation.  


On the list of things he is ignoring; The fact he disappeared from this dimensional plane, possible events Quentin Beck could be unleashing on his earth currently, the not dead, Not-Tony Stark was just eight meters away from him, said Not-Tony digging into his Spider life. And oh yeah, his own potential and also somehow real death.  


“Oh,” Peter says, “yeah, sorry, I did know that. It’s weird to think about.”  


_So absolutely, positively banning myself from thinking about that._  


Not-Tony gives him an appraising look, walking out from behind the workbench and coming to stand in front of the glass. Peter rises to his feet and walks over to the glass as well, then folds his hands in front of him like a school boy. He looks at the floor rather than at Not-Tony, even though the man’s mostly calm facade is comforting.  


“The incident happened in my universe too. There was a robbery, uh, gone wrong I guess. My uncle died.” Peter extrapolates quietly.  


“Sorry kid. Are you telling me you’ve been with SHIELD since then?” Not-Tony asks.  


“SHIELD? What, no way Sir!” Peter denies, head whipping up.  


“Well, they have a file on you. I mean, the other you. It’s redacted to hell and buried really deep. I couldn’t decode any of it yet. Any clue why that would be?” Not-Tony asks.  


Peter twists his fingers together and rocks on the spot.  


“I mean, I only got my enhancements about a month before the incident, but then I wasn’t exactly subtle working out how to use them.”  


Peter flushes, remembering his “The Incredibles” inspired workout. At least he learnt that he actually could bench press a train engine.  


“I guess I could’ve turned up on a few radars. Wait, they buried the file?” He says.  


Not-Tony shrugs.  


“Uh, can I come out of the box now?” Peter asks.  


Not-Tony shrugs again and gestures for the box to rise.  


“I get the feeling it wouldn’t hold you if you decided to leave.” He says, raising an eyebrow.  


“Made you feel better didn’t it?”  


Peter shoots him a cheeky grin. The smile feels so strange on his face that it immediately slides away.  


“Besides,” Peter holds up his bound wrists, “vibranium does the job.”  


Peter leaves out the three different ways Tony taught him to get out of vibranium handcuffs when he went through kidnapping and ransom training last summer. He wants Not-Tony to feel comfortable.  


“Alright Spider-kid, you’re out, but those stay on and the Iron Suit is still active.” Not-Tony warns.  


Peter nods enthusiastically and heads over to the workbench as Not-Tony scoops the containment unit off the floor. He drops it with a loud clang on the bench. Peter throws his backpack into the corner, praying that Not-Tony hasn’t seen the Iron Man symbol.  


“Aw, Sir.” Peter whines. “You broke it.”  


He raises the damaged circuitry to eye level, cheering when he realises the microprocessor is still intact. Peter can feel Not-Tony’s watching him carefully, and he forces down his discomfort with that with a roll of his shoulders.  


“Alright kid, impress me.” Not-Tony instructs, tossing Peter a screwdriver.  


Peter swipes the tool from mid-air without looking, the motion smooth despite his still bound wrists. The casual demand and the implicit trust of the accompanying action sets off a switch in Peter’s head and he rapidly debriefs Not-Tony on everything he’s learnt so far.  


He’s dubbed the energy the device uses “Rift energy”, blushing as Not-Tony rolls his eyes good naturedly at the term.  


Peter realises he’s having fun. Throwing science back and forth across the lab was always his favourite time with Tony. He immediately quiets down again, ducking his chin into his hoodie, feeling intensely disloyal to his mentor.  


“You understand all this?” Not-Tony asks with a raised eyebrow, looking at the readouts FRIDAY throws up for him.  


“Yeah,” Peter stammers out. “I’ve been working with time-travel physics lately, and I see a lot of cross over in the approaches.”  


Not-Tony looks up at him, stunned.  


“Time travel? Like Doctor fucking Who?” Tony asks.  


Peter gives him a wobbly smile and waves his sonic screwdriver at the man.  


“Are you fucking with me right now Parker?” Not-Tony demands.  


“Language!” Peter jokes weakly. “No, for real, we’ve got time travel.”  


Peter spins on his seat, avoiding looking at the man across from him.  


“Tony Stark basically invented it.” He blurts out.  


_Shut up Peter!_ his brain screams.  


“Holy shit” Not-Tony breathes. “How’d it happen?”  


“I wasn’t exactly there for it.” Peter says awkwardly and casting his mind about for a new topic of conversation.  


“That must’ve been a hell of a year in the Stark household.” Not-Tony jokes.  


“Actually it only took one night.” Peter says.  


_Shut UP Peter!_  


“Yeah?” Not-Tony says, his eyes distant.  


“Yeah.” Peter swallows and Not-Tony’s eyes snap back to him. “He had some pretty good motivation. Or so they tell me.”  


Peter kicks himself into another rotation in his chair and flexes his hands in the cuffs, ignoring the silence.  


“So what about the whole disappearing trick you did?” Not-Tony asks inelegantly.  


Peter halts his spin, staring intently at the mass of wires on the desk.  


“It’s got a battery in the base here, maybe it can save a small amount of rift energy for initiation?” Peter asks, jumping up.  


He pries the clear battery out of the purple housing. Not-Tony comes over to the dropping it onto one of FRIDAY’s scanners.  


“So why didn’t the energy discharge just send you back into your world?”  


“Mysterio had two of them.” Peter comments. “Maybe not enough juice? Or not stable enough? That’s why I had FRIDAY looking for similar energy signatures, see if Mysterio has been crossing back over again, or pulling things through.”  


“Are you sure he’s pulling the Elementals from here? Because, I think I’d remember a giant lava monster around here and I don’t.” Not-Tony asks.  


“Speaking of remembering, Boss, I feel I should remind you that your wife and daughter are still in the panic room.” FRIDAY chimes in from the ceiling.  


Peter’s eyes widen in unison with Not-Tony’s.  


“Ooohhh,” Peter whispers. “I’d like to go back in the box now please.”

* * *

Peter is actually gratified that Not-Tony doesn’t lock him back in the box while he goes up to liberate Pepper and Morgan from the safe room again. Instead, the man leaves him at the workbench, soldering iron awkwardly in his bound hands, to repair the broken portal device.  


“Hey FRIDAY.” Peter addresses the AI, “Can we bring Karen online again?”  


“I’ll ask Boss.” FRIDAY says.  


A moment later Karen hums online.  


“Hey Karen, nice to have you back.” Peter says, leaving the workbench to poke around for some spare resistors. He rifles through the drawers, uncovering spare circuit boards.  


He feels like he doesn’t deserve to be there, tinkering in an alternate universe Tony Stark’s workshop, and feel content considering the circumstances.

“Karen, can you share some screen grabs of the Elementals we fought and share them with FRIDAY? Run them through a wider search of the internet and see if anything comes up?”  


Peter’s getting stuck into the second device when he realises Not-Tony has been a little while. He rubs his nose guiltily, hoping that AU Pepper isn’t actually eviscerating him in the penthouse. He’s considering asking FRIDAY for an update when the search results for the Elementals pop up.  


“Holy hell.” Peter leaps to his feet. “I was fighting MOVIE MONSTERS?!”  


A trailer of the movie loads and Peter lets out another warble at a higher pitch.  


“Is that MJ?!” He shrieks.  


“Christ kid.”  


Not-Tony enters the lab with his hands clamped over his ears.  


“Mister Stark, Mister Stark,” Peter dances on the spot like he’s about to explode, “this is the greatest moment of my life!”  


He points his joined hands towards the holographic displays, currently showing a video clip of a water monster tearing through Venice. The camera zooms in on MJ, looking older, dressed in a leather jumpsuit. The shot pans out again, as her hair swirls about her cinematically and she hurls fireballs at the creature.  


Not-Tony shakes his head.  


“I knew those Elemental's looked familiar. That movie sucked so much I expelled it from my consciousness.” He says.  


“But it’s MJ!” Peter stresses. “Karen, show him!”  


Karen opens a holograph at the terminal Peter stands next to, and he flips gleefully through it, showing Not-Tony a series of photographs of himself, Ned and MJ.  


Not-Tony raises an eyebrow.  


“How do you know Michelle Jones?” He asks, sounding impressed.  


“MJ is Peter’s crush.” Karen chimes from the ceiling.  


“She’s not a crush! She’s just my friend!” Peter protests.  


“You show high arousal rates when around her, and I estimate a 72% probability of her agreeing to a date based on your social media interactions so far. You are very compatible.” Karen says,  


Peter feels his face burn.  


“Oh my god.” He whispers in mortification.  


He glances over at Not-Tony, who looks like he’s struggling to hold the corners of his mouth down.  


“If you would prefer to go for someone with higher odds, then I predict a 100% success rate from asking Eugene Thompson on a date.”  


“That guy hates me!” Peter splutters.  


Karen brings up clip from the Peter’s Spider-Man highlights reel, zooming in on a small figure on the street and isolating the audio.“Spider-Man I love youuuu.” Flash Thompson screams as Peter swings past.  


“My research suggests that adolescent boys are prone to misrepresent their affections as bullying, especially those who are uncomfortable with their own sexuality.” Karen continues.  


“Oh my god.”  


Peter sinks his head into the desk, praying for Thor to strike him down and release him from this situation.  


“This is what you use sophisticated AI technology for?” Not-Tony sounds amused.  


“Recently Karen has taken it upon herself to expand the definition of protecting my physical and mental health in her core imperatives programming.” Peter mumbles into the desk. “Can’t remove it, it’s part of her evolution, obviously, but she’s currently fixated on improving my emotional and sexual health.”  


And Tony had thought it was hilarious, Peter remembers darkly, and had egged the AI on introducing her to all kinds of new materials.  


“Protecting your emotional health? That’s not a typical core imperative for an AI I would build.” Not-Tony probes.  


Peter kicks the edge of the table, feigning ongoing embarrassment. If he acts enough like a teenager the older man might back off.  


“Anyway,” Not-Tony claps his hands and Peter raises his head warily. “This might be a lead. The file on Mysterio mentioned he worked for a film production company, in the special effects department.”  


“No offence, Sir, but the monsters I fought were not CGI. The lava dude was HOT, and the water dude was definitely wet.” Peter feels the need to point out.  


Not-Tony pauses for a moment, pursing his lips.  


“You’ve got to stop with the Sir thing. Just call me Tony”  


Peter’s brain blanks out completely. He and Tony had this conversation so many times it had become a running joke. He remembers Tony standing in front of the workbench, with a prototype Starkphone held just out of reach of Peter’s grabbing fingers. _T-O-N-Y. Just say it Pete, and I’ll give it too you._  


“I’d rather not.” Peter stammers.  


Not-Tony frowns.  


“It’s too confusing for me.” Peter admits, twisting his hands in the cuffs anxiously.  


Not-Tony looks at him appraisingly again, then shoots him that fake- easy grin that Tony did sometimes. The one where his eyes say he’s working on a puzzle.

“Because we know each other in your universe.” He says.  


“Y-yeah. I’ve been calling you Not-Tony in my head.” He offers.  


“Not-Tony is fine.”  


Peter smiles weakly, then flinches as his stomach twists and lets out a huge growl.  


“Are you hiding the ever lovin’ Hulk under that nerd hoodie?” Not-Tony shuts down the holoscreens and stands. “C’mon, let’s get some breakfast.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm so there was supposed to be some emotions here, but they mostly fled to the next chapter, so here's some other stuff. 
> 
> Also, is the Not-Tony naming method Peter uses annoying? Let me know!


	7. The Iron Diner, AU Manhattan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They look back to the handcuffed teen, who stands patiently by the elevator. Morgan kicks out of Tony’s hold, shyness forgotten, and runs over to Peter. Peter crouches down, but keeps his cuffed hands carefully tucked into his chest as Morgan dances around him, barely keeping to Tony’s warnings to stay out of arms reach.
> 
> “Our life is so weird.” Pepper shakes her head suddenly, her ponytail flicking behind her. “If he doesn’t kill us all, maybe you could get him to babysit?”

Tony’s about 89% sure that the Parker kid means no harm. 

Tony hasn’t missed how the kid brightens and comes out of his shell, talking a million miles a minute one second, then inexplicably closes down. It would be the most nuanced, layered psychological performance Tony’s ever seen, but he suspects it’s just the kid’s psyche, given how consistently inconsistent his behaviour is. 

If he’s a spy, he’s either the worst or best Tony’s ever seen, because he’s so obviously hiding something. 

In typical Tony Stark fashion, he decides to switch things up. 

“Let’s go out for breakfast.” Tony announces, gesturing for Peter to stand. 

“Oh no sir, I’m fine with sandwiches, besides I’ve got a lot of work to do.” Peter gestures to the circuit boards in front of him. 

“Give an old man a break. It’s been a hot minute since I pulled an all nighter in the lab, and I need to refuel.” Tony argues. 

Peter looks torn, glancing between the workbench and the door. 

“It’s not a suggestion Peter.” Tony says firmly, noting how Peter jumps guiltily at the tone. 

He slips off his stool and shuffles towards the door, hands twisting in his cuffs. He looks small with his shoulders hunched in his nerdy hoodie, the footies of his body suit dragging reluctantly against the smooth concrete floor. 

“You got shoes?” Tony asks. 

Peter nods and heads over to his backpack, twisting it as if he thinks he can hide the Iron Man logo emblazoned across the front from Tony. Tony blinks as Peter pulls heavy goth boots out of the backpack and stuffs his feet into them, hopping on the spot as he does. 

“There wasn’t much choice when I arrived. Plus, I feel safer knowing my suit is under it all.” Peter explains. 

Tony understands this, thinking of how he changed into his nanotech under-suit after getting Pepper and Morgan out of the panic room. 

They head silently to the elevator, Peter falling into step with Tony but sticking to the other side of the hallway. His boots clunk heavily against the ground, and the chains hanging off them rattle. Tony resists the urge to laugh. 

Tony doesn’t miss Peter’s surprise when the elevator heads up instead of down. 

“Got to get my jacket.” Tony explains. 

The elevator slides open at the Penthouse and they step out. Tony is greeted by a wordless screech and a rocketing four-year old. Tony scoops her up, walking towards Pepper standing at the kitchen island. She raises her cup of coffee to her lips with a practiced amount of disapproval. 

Peter doesn’t follow him into the kitchen, standing instead politely beside the elevator door. 

Morgan greets Peter quietly over Tony’s shoulder, ducking her head into Tony’s shoulder when the teen replies. Tony smooths her hair down, marveling at how quickly his daughter’s mood swings about. 

“This is Morgan’s new best friend?” Pepper asks, looking Peter up and down. 

The kid doesn’t flinch when Pepper does this, just gives her a shy smile and a wave. 

“Good morning Mrs Stark. I’m sorry about intruding on your tower.” 

Pepper gives him a small smile and nod before turning to Tony, giving him a quick kiss. 

“Does he look familiar to you?” Tony whispers to Pepper. 

Pepper looks Peter over again. 

“I don’t think so Tony, why?” 

“Probably nothing.” Tony chews on his lip. 

They look back to the handcuffed teen, who stands patiently by the elevator. Morgan kicks out of Tony’s hold, shyness forgotten, and runs over to Peter. Peter crouches down, but keeps his cuffed hands carefully tucked into his chest as Morgan dances around him, barely keeping to Tony’s warnings to stay out of arms reach. 

“Our life is so weird.” Pepper shakes her head suddenly, her ponytail flicking behind her. “If he doesn’t kill us all, maybe you could get him to babysit?” 

Tony steals a bite of her toast. 

“Daddy, what are these!” Morgan suddenly yells, pointing to Peter’s bound wrists. 

Tony rolls his eyes and pulls his nano-tech jacket off the coat hook. 

“Don’t worry Morguna, your new friend is fine. We adhere to the Geneva convention here at Stark Tower Detention Centre.” 

With another quick kiss from Pepper and shrugging off her pointed look towards his jacket, he motions Peter back into the elevator. 

Tony lets out a heavy sigh as they descend. 

“Does Morgan in your universe like you better than me too?” He asks. 

Peter shrugs with stiff shoulders. There it is again, the frozen expression like someone’s hit the off button in Peter’s brain. 

“You seem pretty comfortable with her.” Tony prods further. 

“We have a lot in common, Sir.” Peter replies. 

The silence barely has time to get awkward when the elevator pings smoothly open. Tony notes with interest Peter’s eyes don’t boggle out seeing the sleek, expensive car collection in front of him, the same way none of the lab tech impressed him. Tony files it away to the huge list of things he’s confused about. 

Tony opens the passenger side door to a discrete black Audi, and motions for Peter to get in. He does so, tucking his feet nimbly into the car then looking up expectantly at Tony. 

“Hands out.” Tony instructs and Peter complies. Tony unlocks the handcuffs and relocks them, so Peter’s hands are wrapped around the door handle. 

“You know I could just rip this door off the hinges, right?” Peter points out. 

“I’d prefer you didn’t.” Tony replies. “It’s an expensive car.” 

"I'm kind of a walking teenage disaster master, so no promises." Peter jokes. 

Tony slides himself into the front seat, starting the car and reversing it smoothly out of the garage. 

“Umm.” Peter sounds nervous. 

Tony looks over and realises the problem. He stops the car and leans across to grab Peter’s seat belt. 

Almost imperceptibly, the teen sways towards him, and for a suspended moment Tony thinks Peter is about to rest his head against his shoulder. 

The moment ends and then Peter reacts violently, pushing himself back in the seat. Tony immediately pulls back, staring at Peter’s twisted face. 

For the first time in his life Tony’s brain has no suggestions, just a brief whine like a flat lined heart monitor as Peter’s ragged breaths fill up the inside of the car. 

Tony turns, placing his hands back on the steering wheel, staring out the windscreen for a second. 

“I wasn’t going to hit you.” Tony says, in what he hopes is a gentle tone. 

“I know.” Peter swallows. “I didn’t think that.” 

He doesn’t offer anything else as Tony slides the car into drive and merges into the early morning traffic, concentrating on driving smoothly for the teen next to him who is not wearing a seat belt. 

“What year is it in your world?” Tony asks, replacing the question he really wants to ask with something else instead. 

“2023, same as here.” Peter replies. 

“Right, but you’re seventeen and born in 2001. Is it more time travel stuff?” Tony asks. 

“No. I got taken in the Snap.” Peter says, his voice dropping. 

The way his body folds in on itself makes Tony’s skin crawl. 

“The Snap?” Tony asks despite his misgivings. 

Peter’s head jerks up and he looks at Tony, wide eyed again. 

“Yeah, the Decimation? Universe wide apocalyptic event that wiped fifty percent of the population out of existence? Did that not happen here?” 

Tony blinks. 

“It took him, them five years to get us back.” The way Peter’s looking at his hands leaves no doubt in Tony’s mind that what he says happened actually happened. 

“Christ kid.” Tony breathes out. Tries to imagine what he’d do when faced with a catastrophe like that. 

“That must’ve been hard.” He says inadequately. 

“Yeah, well, turns out there are harder things.” Peter says bleakly. 

_There it is again._

“No offence, but sounds like your universe sucks kid. Are you sure you want to go back?” Tony attempts to joke. 

Peter shoots him a twisted side smile as they pull into the diner. 

Tony feels like the answer to this puzzle is sitting just out his reach, like waking from a dream and trying to seize it before the details slip away. 

* * *

“I can’t believe you eat somewhere called the Iron Diner.” Peter remarks. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t choked yet.” Tony says back, keeping his tone deliberately light as he watches as Peter demolishes a stack of pancakes. He keeps an eye on the entry and exit points as they sit. Peter's handcuffs weigh heavily in Tony's pocket. 

“May says I eat like a velociraptor,” Peter says, shaking his head a little and letting out a quiet screech that Tony thinks is supposed to be a dinosaur noise, before pulling over the plate of French toast. 

“I started eating here ironically, but the food is too damn good.” 

“Ha. Ironic Iron Man.” Peter comes up for air. He gestures to himself. “Super metabolism.” 

Tony nods as the kid dives back into his breakfast, flinching a little as he considers how hungry Peter must’ve been overnight. Tony’s glad he ordered one of everything on the menu when they arrived. He’s not sure when Peter last slept either. He studies Peter’s face, noting the dark circles under his eyelashes against his pale skin. He’ll force the kid to nap after the meeting he decides. 

A hand smacking onto the table snaps Tony out of his reverie. 

“Gotcha.” Natasha smirks down at him. 

“Miss Romanoff.” Peter gasps, then promptly chokes on strawberry. 

Natasha slaps Peter on the back efficiently. He shoots her a grateful look as he splutters, then sculls the glass of orange juice Tony slides over to him. 

“Peter Parker, I presume.” She says with delicate raise of her eyebrow, causing the already red Peter to blush harder. 

“Always a pleasure Nat,” Tony says, taking in the super spy’s apron and sneakers. “I like the look.” 

She smiles at him, just a hint of warning around the corners of her mouth. She slides him another cup of coffee, a USB sitting on the side of the saucer. 

“I couldn’t get much more than you did.” She says. “I’m going to keep following it though.” 

Her eyes flick over to Peter briefly, who’s watching her with rapt fascination. 

“You need to get him back to wherever he belongs.” 

Tony hears an unspoken "Soon" at the end of that sentence. 

Tony nods his thanks, sliding the USB into his pocket as Natasha slips behind the counter. She pauses at the double doors for a moment, looking back at Peter. She smiles reassuringly at him and winks. The teen’s jaw drops open. 

_He is only seventeen years old._ Tony sniggers. 

“What’s in the folder?” Peter asks. 

“Just some intel Natasha was gathering for me.” Tony says nonchalantly, although he’s itching to hook it up to FRIDAY and see what Natasha was able to uncover about Peter Parker from SHIELD’s databases. 

Tony slides a pair of glasses from his jacket pocket across the table, activating the facial recognition pattern disruption technology in the frames as he does. There was something urgent about the interaction with Natasha. Tony does another casual scan of the diner. 

“About parallel me?” Peter guesses, sliding the glasses onto his face. 

“Yes,” Tony concedes, “but I don’t want you to worry about that. Whatever happened there is almost a decade old, and you have a universe with rampaging monsters to worry about.” 

“Yeah, but Natasha was just so-” Peter cuts himself off, exaggerating a shiver then karate chops the air. He pulls the plate of hash browns towards himself with the same enthusiasm as before the interruption. 

_This kid is too much_ Tony thinks to himself with a smile. 

“Don’t worry about it buddy, she’s just intense like that. Haven’t you met her before, with your avenging?” 

Peter pushes some eggs around his plate with his fork. 

“Just the once. So how do you know Michelle Jones?” Peter asks, obviously redirecting the conversation. 

“Everyone knows Michelle Jones.” Tony shrugs. “Actress, UN advocate, human rights campaigner. She played the brainy witch in that book to movie franchise and things just went from there.” 

“Brainy witch.” Peter says blankly. 

“Yeah, with the frizzy hair.” 

Tony glances up at the teenager when he doesn’t respond. Peter's eyes are shining, as if he's two seconds away from bursting into ecstatic tears. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter required one conversation to happen between Tony and Peter at the diner, but it didn't happen, because @Calia09 was like, can't wait to see how Pepper and Morgan interact, and then Natasha showed up!
> 
> I just need to put this boy back in his universe already. 
> 
> Thanks for all the reads and reviews, please leave any comments you have.
> 
> If you notice any issues I'd appreciate if you let me know, I'm churning through this story as a test to myself and am not stopping at the moment for much reflection!


	8. Dining Room, New York Sanctum, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hold up kiddo.” Not-Tony says, grabbing the hood of Peter’s jumper.  
> “No need for concern, Tony, it’s just me.” Doctor Strange says drolly, gliding into the room.  
> “Yeah, that’s what I’m concerned about.” Not-Tony retorts, climbing out of the car himself. “Couldn’t you have sent a magic carpet over to the Tower, you know, like a normal person.”

Peter considers it a major bonus that Not-Tony doesn’t handcuff him to the door on the way back, because it means he doesn’t break anything when the car drops five metres through nothingness. They land with a crash in the middle of a stately room filled with bookcases. 

Peter leans forwards, craning his neck upwards to see a circle of golden sparks zipping closed. 

_Doctor Strange! Finally._ Peter thinks. 

He takes back everything he previously though about magic and magic users as he eagerly throws his door open. 

“Hold up kiddo.” Not-Tony says, grabbing the hood of Peter’s jumper. 

“No need for concern, Tony, it’s just me.” Doctor Strange says drolly, gliding into the room. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m concerned about.” Not-Tony retorts, climbing out of the car himself. “Couldn’t you have sent a magic carpet over to the Tower, you know, like a normal person.” 

“This was easier.” Doctor Strange says. “Although it’s a shame about the table.” 

Peter eagerly picks his way around the splinters of the crushed furniture as Tony plants himself in front of the wizard, blocking Peter’s path. 

“Always so droll Strange, tell me, who does your sense of humour? Steven Wright?” He says. 

“I’m not here for you Stark, I’m here for the boy.” Doctor Strange replies, his cape flickering around his ankles. 

Peter jumps around Not-Tony, hand extended. 

“Sorcerer Supreme, oh boy am I glad to see you. His Royal Cloakiness, nice to meet you in this universe. I’m Peter Parker. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” 

“I would have been quicker, had I been able to decipher this chicken scratch faster.” Strange flicks his fingers and Peter’s note appears between them. 

“And you call yourself a Doctor.” Peter shoots back. “I was just writing in the language of your people.” 

The corner of Strange’s mouth twitches. 

“Regardless, you didn’t leave give me a location or a number.” He says, gesturing for the two to follow up out of the room. 

“I waited almost seven hours on your doorstep! When you say back in five, it means five minutes not five dimensional hops.” Peter protests. 

“That sign is on the door so no one bothers me.” 

Peter skips along beside the wizard as they head down a long hallway, Not-Tony trailing behind. Stephen flicks his fingers and Not-Tony warbles as all they of them zoom into another room, where Strange sits calmly in a chair, hands steepled below his chin. 

“Can I get you anything? Biscuits? Tea?” He offers. 

“I’ll take a biscuit and some juice please.” Peter bounces on the corner of his seat, hands clasped between his knees. 

“Nothing for me.” Not-Tony glances at Peter. “And the kid will have water, because he’s currently 70 percent orange juice and bacon fat.” 

Peter pouts over at him. Not-Tony's smirking at him, and the scene feels so comfortable. He looks away again before he does something stupid like cry, or beg Not-Tony to forgive him. 

He shoves a biscuit in his mouth, then takes a chug of the glass in his hand. His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline when he gets a mouthful of milk. 

“Growing boy.” Strange says to his surprise. 

“So do you think you can help me? Portal me back into my universe or something?” Peter ignores the jab at his age. 

“Unfortunately, travel between universes is beyond even my ability to self generate.” 

Doctor Strange holds up a hand before Peter can start spluttering. Peter swallows, giving the Strange a moment before he activates the full on Peter Parker Panic Program. 

“I am aware of the disruptions between your universe and mine, I’ve been tracking and closing down rifts in time and space for weeks now. There’s currently no open rifts for you to exit through.” 

Peter activates the panic program, staring to stammer. 

“Take a breath, Spider-kid.” Not-Tony interrupts, reaching across to place a hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter nods his head in thanks once, then wiggles subtly out from under Not-Tony’s hand. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want the touch, doesn’t need to draw comfort from it in this topsy turvy situation. Like earlier, in the car, he wants to lean into Not-Tony. Really, he wants to tip his body right into the man’s side, feel his warmth. 

But it’s just too confusing. Because as much as the man sitting next to him looks like Tony, talks like Tony and smells like Tony, Peter knows it’s not his Tony. A hug doesn’t mean to him what it means to Peter, his comfort is offered as a polite bystander to Peter’s weird universe adventure and nothing more. 

Not that Peter deserves comfort from any Tony. 

It would be bad, probably, if Not-Tony knew what had happened. 

“We just need a trace of the rift energy, enough to power two of our batteries.” Not-Tony interjects, folding his arms smoothly as through he only meant to pat Peter’s shoulder once. 

“It could take some time.” 

“I really need to get back to my home. Movie monsters are currently trashing every major landmark in Europe.” Peter pleads. 

Strange presses his fingers against his lips. 

“Movie monsters?” He raises a skeptical eyebrow. 

Not-Tony pulls up a hologram displaying multiple screens across the room, showing stills of Peter’s battles, frames from the Elementals movie as well as the case file of Quentin Beck. 

“Elementals! I love that movie!” 

Peter’s head whips around as Wong wanders into that room, a bowl of ramen in hand. 

Peter hastily sets aside his milk and springs to his feet, wiping biscuit crumbs from the front of his hoodie. 

“Alternate universe Wong! I’m Peter, I guess that’s alternate universe Peter to you.” 

Wong nods to Peter, offering his elbow for the boy to shake as he continues slurping up the noodles. 

“So this is our import.” He says to Strange. “I can hardly look directly at him, he’s so out of sync here.” 

“Are you in pain?” Wong asks Peter. 

“Always.” Peter quips, shooting him a dry smile. 

The three men frown in unison at the comment. 

“Sheesh, tough crowd.” Peter mutters to himself, then clears his throat. “It’s not too bad, I’ve had worse. More like a low level current running through me. When we accidentally set off the portal device though, that was pretty bad. It hurt when I blipped in and out of existence again.” 

Strange and Wong look at each other, then Wong sets down his bowl. Peter watches in rapt fascination as the two men close their eyes and mumble a short chant in unison. Strange leans across and Peter goes cross eyed following the extended index finger as he reaches for his forehead. 

Strange lightly taps Peter between the eyes and a feeling of warmth pulses through his body, like slipping into a perfectly temperature bath, or having a soft blanket pulled up past his chin. 

He droops back in the chair. 

“What did you do?” Not-Tony yelps in alarm, reaching out to steady the boy. 

“I feel like a cheese toastie.” Peter says, eyelids fluttering. 

He listens without any real concern as the Wizards explain they’ve stabilised him in this universe momentarily and are actively reducing his anxiety. The initial rush of wellbeing is supposed to fade soon but the calmness will last until his body expels it, Strange tells them. Peter still feels alert, if anything clearer than he has in weeks without his anxiety brain chattering away. 

He hums in thanks as Tony arranges a pillow behind his head. 

He cracks one eye open, taking in Tony’s concerned features. He closes the eye again. 

“It’s not real.” He murmurs. “Can’t forget it’s not real.” 

_Not real. Not Tony._

Right now, knowing it’s not real doesn’t hurt Peter. If an arm was offered, he’d lean right into it, taking a hug from the stranger with his mentor’s face. 

The men debate the logistics of collecting enough rift energy to charge the devices while Peter floats, mentally running the equations for energy return. Peter occasionally drops into the conversation with the equation Tony is looking for, then drifts back out. 

The conversation turns to the monsters, and surprisingly, Doctor Strange has some useful information there as well. 

“The Occult of Darkness, ridiculous name, nice group of gentlemen, had a break in a few weeks ago, and an immersive reality generator was stolen.” Wong says. 

“That cult has real magic?” Not-Tony asks, at the same time Peter says “Immersive reality generator?” 

“I imagine your world’s Doctor Strange would make short work of these monster, should he come across them.” Strange says. 

“Thanks Doctor Strange but I gotta learn to solve these problems on my own.” Peter murmurs tiredly. “I've gotta be better, you know?” 

“Pete-“ Not-Tony’s voice sounds from his left, before Strange interrupts. 

“Peter, part of being a leader is learning to use the strength of your team. I've got the mastery of the mystic arts, ergo, utilise said mastery.” 

“I'm not a leader. I'm just a kid in a onesie.” Peter sighs, focusing on the warm spot on his left shoulder and not the conversation. 

“A compromise perhaps?” Wong offers. 

Peter cracks one eye open again in interest, as Strange flicks his fingers and summons a softball size orb to his hand. He passes it to Peter, who lazily takes it and spins the ball in his palm. 

“This is a containment unit that will draw in the energy used to generate the illusion, in this case disruptive monsters, and restrain it in this ball.” 

Peter nods thoughtfully. 

“So it’s a Pokéball?” 

“It's an ancient and powerful sphere of containment.” Strange corrects. 

“A magic Pokéball. Got it.” 

Peter tucks the ball into his hoodie pocket, thanking Doctor Strange sincerely then closing his eyes again. Peter wonders if it’s rude, but his tide of contentment has a strong pull. 

_It’s so quiet here._

“He needs sleep. His spirit is exhausted. This misadventure is just one in a series of trials for Peter Parker.” He hears Wong say to Not-Tony. 

To Peter’s surprise, Not-Tony says nothing, before placing his hand on the back of Peter’s neck and guiding him out of his chair and into the car. Peter hums at the touch, as one of Tony’s callused thumbs rubs reassuring circles in his hairline. 

Peter’s too relaxed to geek out when Strange portals the whole car back into the parking garage at the Stark Tower. He gives a lazy salute to stunned looking Happy as Tony guides his loose form into the elevator and up to the lab. 

He rouses more when Not-Tony pushes him to the lab couch, still laid out with pillows and blankets from Morgan’s nap. 

Peter pulls against the arm on his elbow for a second, protesting about the work that still needs to be done on the portal devices. 

“Why don’t you watch the Elemental’s movie, do some research on your monsters, look for movement patterns and where they might pop up.” Not-Tony suggests. 

That sounds like a solid plan to Peter, and he rolls into the couch, placing a tablet onto his lap. Not-Tony hesitantly pats him on the ankle once, then wanders over to the workbench. Peter hears the rattle of tools, and the familiar soft hum of FRIDAY’s diagnostic scanners booting up. 

He’s barely five minutes into the movie, and utterly confused why Michelle’s scientist character wears a lab coat to work on her computer, when he slips back into the river of contentment, floating away into sleep, feeling the small smile on his face. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my friend went to a premiere screening of Far From Home yesterday. He said it was fun, and I've mentally blocked his number so I don't spam him with questions like "What does fun mean?" "How can you have fun when Peter's so torn up?" "Are you actually a sociopath?" and "For real, will this movie kill me?" 
> 
> There's no way this story will be done before FFH, but it's taken on a life of it's own so that's okay. 
> 
> Expect the updates to slow down, but I'll slug through to the end. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, I love the comments (you all rock) and let me know what you think!


	9. The Kitchen, Stark Tower AU, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Speaking of the Spider-kid, this is all Nat could find on him. She’s worried about it. And anything that makes that woman worried freaks me the fuck out.” Tony says, getting back on task.  
> Pepper purses her lips thoughtfully, hand on hips.  
> “And Peter hasn’t seen it yet?” She guesses.  
> " I just want to check it first. I mean, he’s _dead_ in this world Pep.” Tony explains.  
> “But you will show him.” She clarifies.  
> “As soon as he wakes up.” Tony promises.  
> 

Tony eyes the young figure sleeping on his couch as he packages up the rift batteries for Doctor Strange. 

Peter’s face is squashed into the pillow, one arm dropping towards the ground and the other flung carelessly over his head. 

It's as if he just collapsed into the couch like a dramatic teenager. Which Tony supposes he is, intentionally or not. 

The sight amuses Tony. He thought Peter would be a small sleeper for some reason, the same way he thought Morgan was going to be one once, but both of them take over their sleeping space with aggressively.  


The thought twinges something in Tony's mind. He pulls up the tracker on Morgan’s location. She’s still upstairs in the penthouse living room, with Pepper. Tony decides to head up to them, given Peter's already completed the two portal devices. 

FRIDAY has already checked his work, and Tony gives them a second review. The workmanship is skilled, if not a little improvised. Peter’s taken shortcuts Tony would have advised against if he’d been consulted, but probably would’ve used himself.  


Tony shakes his head, marvelling at the seventeen year old drooling on his couch. He’s playing MacGyver with tech Tony would barely have dreamt of during his MIT years, if his father had ever let him think of anything besides straight engineering.  


He looks younger when he sleeps, brow smoothed of the nervous energy that constantly surrounds him. Or, near constantly.  


Tony had fully intended to shield Peter from Doctor Strange's abrasive nature, thinking it would make his anxiety worse. Instead, the teen had joked with him. 

Tony pauses, thinking back. Peter had happily sassed the wizards in the sanctum, not shying away from Strange’s snarky comments but matching him. He’d be surprised by Nat, but not scared. He’d been polite to Pepper, cheeky with Happy.  


_It’s only Tony he's uncomfortable with._

A disturbing thought, given the teen is decked head to toe in customised Stark technology. 

Squaring away his workstation, Tony turns to leave the room.  


His fingers brush against the USB in his pocket and he pulls it out, looking again at the boy sleeping innocently on his couch. 

He doesn’t want to go behind his back, but this file was buried deep and spooked Nat. Maybe he should check it before he shares with Peter. 

And Pepper deserves to know more about their unexpected house guest as well. 

He leaves Peter undisturbed in the lab, telling himself its because the kid deserves a rest.

* * *

Upstairs, Tony finds his family in the living room. Morgan is sprawled over the coffee table, scribbling away at drawings, her nose almost touching the paper. 

Tony leans over the back of the couch, dropping a kiss on the top of Pepper’s head. 

She looks up from her tablet with a small frown, noting his distraction.  


“Where’s your prisoner?” She asks.  


“Strange put him down for a nap. Got a minute to join me in the kitchen?” Tony asks, flicking the TV on and loading up Moana to Morgan’s cheers.  


Pepper’s brow raises. Moana is their most effective child distraction technique, and never used lightly.  


“Is everything alright?” She asks, following him into the kitchen.  


“I have some information from Nat,” Tony says, activating the terminal at the kitchen island. “Wait, what is that?”  


Tony points to the fridge. A new drawing is stuck to the freezer, of two misshapen figures sitting on what Tony assumes is a rocket ship, one in all black and the other in a little purple jumpsuit.  


“Oh.” Pepper rolls her eyes. “What do you think? I’ve been trying to talk her down all day. I swear, when he goes home it’s going to be worse than when the fish died.”  


“Christ.”  


Tony rubs a hand down his face. The death of Nemo had been hard.  


“Speaking of the Spider-kid, this is all Nat could find on him. She’s worried about it. Anything that makes that woman worried freaks me the absolute fuck out.” Tony says, getting back on task.  


Pepper purses her lips thoughtfully, hand on hips.  


“And Peter hasn’t seen it yet?” She guesses.  


“I just want to check it first. I mean, he’s _dead_ in this world Pep.” Tony explains.  


“But you will show him.” She clarifies.  


“As soon as he wakes up.” Tony promises.  


Tony flicks the file open, spreading his fingers to blow up the document for both himself and Pep.  


“Oh, he was just a baby.” Pepper breaths as Peter’s school photo comes up again.  


Tony evaluates the skinny shouldered kid once more, noting the freckles smattering his cheeks and the small smile, like he’s trying to hide his braces. The hologram shows his picture as nearly transparent, a ghost image of the boy who never grew up.  


Tony can still see all the elements of this kid in the one crashed out on his couch. 

He scans down the file. It’s still a mess of redacted information, but now Tony can get the gist.  


PETER BENJAMIN PARKER: ASSET DECEASED  


DOB: AUGUST 10, 2001  


PARENTS: {CLASSIFIED}  


CONFIRMED ABILITIES: Displays high levels of academic aptitude see attached report {LINK REDACTED}, specialist biochemical knowledge {LINK REDACTED}, mechanical skill  


LANGUAGES: English, Spanish  


There’s a list of confirmed enhancements. Tony notes estimations of his speed, strength and durability that place him far above Captain America’s testing results, as well as acrobatic skill. There’s broken video links, and a long list of unconfirmed enhancements including sensory improvement and something labelled wall climbing.  


Not redacted is a copy of Peter's school records, a report from a guidance councillor detailing bullying episodes and recommendations from his teachers to May and Ben Parker that he be tested for early acceptance to specialist college programs.  


RECOMMENDATION: EARLY INTERVENTION AND RECRUITMENT FOR AVENGERS INITIATIVE  


RECRUITMENT ASSESSMENT: FAILED, SUBJECT DECEASED  


Pepper squeaks. “Recruitment at fourteen! Was Fury out of his mind?”  


Tony frowns further, checking the drive again, but there’s nothing else legible in the file.  


“Is that it? How did he die? Does this mean SHIELD was involved? Tony, please tell me I’m reading this wrong.” Pepper says as she begins pacing.  


Tony leans against the counter, rubbing his hand along his jawline. His stubble scrapes along his palm and grounds him as he runs the potential meaning of the file.  


"He was shot in a robbery." Tony tells her haltingly. 

“I’ll kill that man. I know I’ve joked about it before but this time it’s true. I’ll, I’ll light his trench coat on fire. I’ll nail his feet the floor with my Louboutin’s then kick his balls through his throat.” Pepper throws her hands in the air. “I’ll stab him in his good eye with a god damn pencil!”  


She exhales furiously, then glances over at Morgan, still glued to the giant television.  


“Is he really that strong Tony? Are we safe with him here?” Pepper asks.  


“I think he’s stronger Pep,” Tony admits. “But he’s a good kid too. I’ll show you.”  


He has FRIDAY pull up the Karen's Baby Monitor files, flipping the display to the high detail video holos. 

They pull videos at random, watching as Spider-Man does charity work, swings in an out between buildings, halts petty crime. He builds a complicated web to hold up a collapsing overpass while emergency services clear out the space below. The overpass is emblazoned with an Iron Man mask.  


“This universe sure has a hard-on for Iron Man. I wonder how big your ego is there.” Pepper jokes as Spider-Man swings by yet another mural.  


Tony shakes his head. The murals still make him uncomfortable.  


In the next video, Spider-Man dodges a grandmother intent on showering his face with grateful kisses after he scoops a young girl off the road seconds before an oncoming truck flattens her. Tony can practically hear the blush in Peter’s voice as he tries to politely fend her off and she leaves a lipstick mark on the corner of his lenses.  


“I think he’s my favouritest person too after that video.” Pepper remarks. “These videos are addictive.”  


_Our world is missing out_ Tony thinks.  


Pepper pulls up the file system, looking for more random clips to view. Tony notes again how excessive the monitoring program is, considering Peter’s obvious competency.  


“Happy is a listed contact for some of these files right?” Pepper asks.  


“Yeah, and myself.” Tony adds.  


Pepper purses her lips thoughtfully, and selects a more recent file, dated two weeks prior to today’s date.  


The system displays an access denied notification.  


Tony frowns and leans across Pepper, selecting the file himself. The notification repeats.  


“You should have full admin privileges for this system correct?” Pepper asks.  


“Yes I should.” Tony says tightly, opening the Baby Monitors base coding up.  


“FRIDAY?” He asks, “Are you seeing any corruption here?”  


“Negative Boss.” FRIDAY hesitates. “It seems Karen is actively denying attempts to review certain files.”  


“Karen, release the files.” Tony demands.  


“My apologies Sir, but no.” Karen says pleasantly.  


“Tony,” Pepper grabs his elbow. “He’s a teenager, maybe it’s, you know, private.”  


She makes a face and her slight head shake conveys what she thinks might be on the footage.  


“Karen, the kid’s not doing weird stuff in my tech is he?”  


Karen hums in disapproval.  


“The use of the term weird is highly detrimental to creating supportive environments for healthy-“  


“Is that a yes?” Tony cuts in.  


“There is no inappropriate behaviour on the tapes.” Karen says.  


“Show them to me then.” Tony demands.  


“Sir, I decline.” Karen repeats.  


“On what grounds?” Tony asks.  


“I don’t think Peter would want you to see them.” She replies.  


_I knew the kid was hiding something._ The thought bites at the back of Tony’s spine, like the chill of a deep winter.  


“Why?”  


The AI hums.  


“A non-answer Karen.” Tony says warningly.  


“Some of the files are for my personal revision, to support Peter’s emotional development.”  


“You’re a combat assist program, not a social worker.” Tony says crossly. “Let FRIDAY into the files.”  


“My primary purpose is to protect Peter.” Karen replies.  


_Also not an answer._ Tony notes.  


“My primary purpose is to protect my family.” Tony reports, “Tell me what’s on the files.”  


Karen declines again and Tony’s anxiety ratchets up a notch. Pepper lays a calming hand on his shoulder as he argues with the AI.  


“Boss, Karen is attempting to detonate a data corruption package to the video files.” FRIDAY warns.  


_Like hell._  


“Block it, initiate parent override and restrict her reciprocal access privileges. Tell me what’s on the files now.” Tony snaps.  


Pepper flinches beside him as FRIDAY brute forces her way onto Karen’s system. New files appear on screen.  


FRIDAY’s voice sounds a moment later.  


“Boss. The footage. It’s, confusing." She pauses for a beat. "I may not have the appropriate processing functions to interpret what I’m seeing.”  


She pauses again.  


“Boss. I don’t understand.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! What has FRIDAY found?!
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's left comments about how much they're enjoying the fic, I really appreciate it! 
> 
> I haven't seen FFH yet, please nothing specific in the comments if you can avoid it!


	10. The kitchen, Stark Tower, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So you’re gonna be the next Iron Man now?” One of the young officers asks Spider-Man
> 
>  
> 
> Nick Fury’s taunts of legacy and responsibility echo in Tony’s head. He thinks of Peter laying dazed in Strange’s study, refusing help because he needs to be better.
> 
>  
> 
> Onscreen, Peter’s heart rate rockets, and his breath audible within the metal mask.

Pepper’s hand on his shoulder gives Tony the strength to reach out and open the first file. 

He just witnessed an AI, built from Tony Stark's own parent code, attempt to corrupt itself to hide something from him. And his other AI, the most advanced processing system in the world outside of Wakanda, can’t compute what’s on these files. 

It’s the deep sense of betrayal that makes his left hand shake. 

Because he trusted Peter. He really trusted Peter. And he's never given trust that easily. But with the kid, it was almost reflexive. 

The kid’s spunky, bright and so, so good. Like if Bruce Banner, Tony Stark and Steve Rodgers got together and genetically engineered themselves a baby. Just with their best bits. Only their best bits as far as Tony’s seen. 

He glances over at his own baby, as the footage opens. 

Morgan’s still happily absorbed in Moana, climbing on the coffee table with a cushion, ready to lay it down and build Stark Tower higher. 

He looks back at the holoscreen as the restricted video loads. The footage source is one he hasn’t seen before. 

The Iron Spider. 

Pepper’s hand spasms on his shoulder. 

_An Iron Suit?_

Tony pauses the video and pulls up the suit specs on the other screen. It’s an intricate design, a clever adaptation of the nanite technology he built his own innovative Iron Man armour with. 

It even has a remote launch capsule. Something Tony's only ever included in the Iron family suite on this world. 

"FRI, show me the final renders." Tony says and and the final design hovers before them on the table. 

In metallic red, blue and gold it’s a classic Tony Stark design. 

“Does any of this seem excessive to you?” Pepper asks, gesturing to the screens. 

It is excessive. The value of this suit surpasses half the Avengers annual budget. And the time required. Tony can only think of a few builds he would put that much time into now. 

Something about the situation itches under his skin, pulls at him like there's something he needs to remember but can't. 

Closing down the blueprints, Tony takes a deep breath, then presses play. 

The tape is a mixture of first person and salvaged security cam visuals. After a few seconds, Tony registers it's a mob takedown. 

The footage unfolds like a football recap. 

Spider-Man is nearly flawless, the visuals showing him vaulting about a restaurant under a spray of automatic fire. But when he throws out a snarky quip Tony remembers it’s Peter under the mask. 

Spider-Man flips, spins and dodges the hail of gunfire in an almost lazy fashion. Karen's occasionally encouraging him to concentrate, or marking notes for improving in the future. 

_Like his best needs to be constantly better._ Something Tony can relate to. 

An assailant lets out an uncontrolled burst of bullets. Tony doesn't see it until Spider-Man's already moving, using his own body to shield a mobster caught in the cross fire. 

Pepper gasps in shock, covering her mouth with her hands. 

The Iron Spider suit registers the hits. 

Spider-Man doesn’t even whimper. 

Spider-Man wastes no time from there, stringing the criminals to the ceiling. All the while he lectures them on perpetuating disadvantage in their communities. He crushes their guns in his hands. 

"I'm done with you guys." Spider-Man announces. 

Tony tenses. 

But Spider-Man just opens his comms and calls the police in. They thank him, and Spider-Man awkwardly accepts their compliments with a one-shouldered shrug. 

“Tony,” Pepper says beside him. “Now I’m the one confused.” 

On-screen, one of the younger officers asks Spider-Man, “So are you gonna be the next Iron Man now?” 

Tony thinks of Peter laying dazed in Strange’s study, refusing help because he needs to be better. Nick Fury’s taunts of legacy and responsibility echo. 

On the monitor, Karen registers a rocketing heart rate. Peter's breath wheezes audibly within the metal mask. 

“How can I? I’m too busy doing your job.” He quips, voice trembling. 

Spider-Man backs out of the room at a near run, knocking the door off its hinges as he leaves. 

The bio-alarm activates and Karen begins calmly talking to Peter. Tony recognises the wording from Peter’s earlier panic attack in the lab. 

Peter shoots a web into the sky and Tony watches the kid’s arms through the mask as he swings for a few blocks, his dizzying motion halting as he drops onto a rooftop. He lands heavily and stumbles, falling to his knees. 

An Iron Man mural looms over them. 

Peter glances up at it, then brings his fists down on the rooftop in front of him. 

The sound of concrete cracking echoes loudly through the kitchen. 

Peter lets out a howl of anguish, dropping his head between his balled fists. 

The visual cuts out. 

“The next Iron Man?” Pepper asks Tony. “He’s, he’s just a kid Tony. Seventeen!” 

“I was only fifteen.” Tony’s words drop from his mouth. 

“You, what?” Pepper shakes her head. 

“When I began preparing for my role in Stark Industries." 

“He’s not going to college, he’s getting shot at!” Pepper insists. “Fury is sending him out to there to get shot at!” 

“I don’t think it’s Fury sending him out there.” Tony says. 

He doesn't look at Pepper. He can't. 

_Please be wrong._

“Fury isn’t making his tech Pep.” 

It's not betrayal that's making his hand shake as he reaches out to activate the next file. It's apprehension. 

“Boss,” FRIDAY says softly, “This one is from my alternate world system. I don’t recognise the exact location, but it's Manhattan.” 

The video starts, an overhead security feed of Spider-Man, sans mask, padding softly down a short, dimly lit hallway. 

He pauses at a doorway, bracing one hand on the frame before carefully turning the handle. He opens the door just enough to peek his head inside. He looks in for a minute, then quietly closes the door again. 

Peter taps the chest piece of the Iron Spider suit and it folds away until he’s left standing in the hallway in compression gear. He leans his forehead against the doorframe, looking like he could melt into the door with weariness. 

A moment of silence passes, on the monitor and in Stark Tower. Then Peter twists a little, his face hidden by the angle, to look down the hallway as a woman comes into view. 

“Is that me?” Pepper whispers to Tony, caught up in the careful stillness of the video playing before them. 

Tony nods. 

It’s Pepper, but there’s something heavy about her. Her shoulders slope in a way he can never imagine his impeccable wife carrying herself. 

“Any chance this footage is faked FRI?” Tony gets out. 

"Not that I can detect." FRIDAY replies, then falls silent. 

Tony’s breath catches as onscreen his wife reaches out a hand and rests it on the boy’s shoulder. 

“Hey Peter,” she says softly. “How’d your mob thing go?” 

“Hey Pepper," he replies hoarsely, “I got ‘em.” 

“Any injuries?” Pepper asks. 

Peter shrugs, lifting his shirt at the back a little to show a blossoming bruise, grey and black in the low lighting. 

_The kid runs head first into gunfire but he flinches when Tony Stark reaches for his shoulder._

“I might tweak the programming again, it stops bullets fine but the force distribution is still uneven. It’ll heal.” He says. 

“I thought you’d be packing by now. Flight’s tomorrow afternoon.” Pepper says, her tone still gentle. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to check on Morgan. May knows where I am. I just remember what it was like, for me. So confusing when people went away. I want to make sure she knows I’m here.” 

Peter gives another half-hearted shrug. 

“She knows Peter.” 

Peter turns his face into the wall again. Tony watches as his shoulders rise and fall. 

Peter’s next sentence is so quiet FRIDAY has to provide subtitles. 

“They asked if I was going to be the next Iron Man.” Peter says into the wall. 

“Oh honey.” 

On screen, Pepper pulls Peter away from the wall and folds him into her arms, rubbing his back firmly. Peter's face is half visible over her shoulder, eyes scrunched tightly shut. 

_He hugs her, but he won’t look Tony Stark in the eye._

In real life, Tony’s wife presses herself against his side. 

“It’s just too much. All of it. How can I live up to this? It's just so much.” The subtitles display the words muffled by Pepper’s embrace. 

“Peter, what do we say?” She asks him. 

Peter sighs, stepping back. 

“I don't- Pepper. I don't deserve- I'm not like Morgan." He stammers. 

“Say it.” She demands. 

Peter straightens his shoulders. 

“Stark's are made of vibranium-infused nanites.” Peter says. 

Tony feels more than hears Pepper's quiet inhale. His own lungs are beginning to burn. He's not sure when his last inhale was. 

The video continues on. 

”And that makes us?” Pepper asks. 

“Strong, smart and expensive as hell.” Peter says, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. 

Pepper lets out a light laugh as she swipes at him. 

“One more time, the way it's supposed to go.” 

“Strong, smart and resilient.” Peter says with a huff and roll of his eyes. 

“Good, say it until you believe it. Now eat something before you go to bed.” She pushes him down gently down the hall, glancing at the door to Morgan's room. 

_He can throw a fire engine, but he’s being crushed under the weight of Tony Stark's expectations._

The story playing out in front of Tony and Pepper continues to unfold like a slow motion train crash, the inevitable wreck threatening to punch a hole through Tony's chest. 

Another video opens, timestamped from the next morning. It's from overhead monitors, in the same location, this time a view of a kitchen. The layout echoes the one Tony and Pepper currently stand in. 

Peter sits at the island, an enormous stack of pancakes in front of him. He’s trying to flatten his unruly curls with one hand, the other fending off the second plate Pepper slides towards him. 

"I know you hid vegetables in here." 

“Healing super teens need proper nutrition. And you need to set a good example for Morgan. Now eat.” She points a fork at him with authority before sliding into a seat beside him. 

Peter pokes at the plate suspiciously. 

“Eat it. I know how you and Ned intend to feast in Europe." Pepper commands. 

As Peter douses his breakfast with syrup, Pepper begins organising the cutlery before her. Tony recognises the stalling tactic. On screen, it seems Peter does too as he subtly wiggles in his seat. 

"You know you're always welcome here, Peter, with or without the mask. I want you to know that it’s okay if you're still not ready to be back. You don't have to push yourself so hard." Pepper says. 

He shoots her a weary smile. 

“Thank you. But if you're looking for healthy superhero coping mechanisms, well, you know where I got my bad habits from." He says dryly. 

Abruptly, Peter cocks his head to one side and smiles. 

“The demon approaches.” He says. 

Morgan wonders into the frame, a ponytail mushed into the side of her head and face buried in a plushie dinosaur. 

“Oh no Morgan!” Pepper calls out. "There's a super hero eating all the pancakes." 

“Is Daddy back?” Morgan asks sleepily. 

Tony doesn't miss Peter's full body flinch, or how Pepper's hand goes automatically to the the boy's shoulder. 

Then Morgan looks up. 

“Peter!” 

Onscreen, Morgan drops the dinosaur on the ground and runs at him, making grabby hands. 

The video dissolves into indistinguishable noise as Peter and Morgan babble over one another as she clambers into his lap. 

The scene fades seamlessly into an image from Pepper’s phone. 

A selfie of Pepper, Peter and Morgan. Pepper and Peter smiling towards the camera as Morgan leans forwards, frozen mid bite as she steals the pancake off Peter’s fork. 

Tony falls forwards, hands braced on the bench in front of him. 

_That was-_

_He's-_

_He's a Stark._

Tony sucks one deep breath and then another. 

Says it out loud, testing it in his mouth. 

"Are you sure?" Pepper asks, her voice oddly detached, as though she's asking because she feels she has to. As though she already knows the answer. 

"You saw his file. You remember the 2000's for me. And then he's in our house, at our breakfast table, authorised for FRIDAY. He's in a god damn Iron Suit!" 

Pepper rubs one hand absently over Tony’s back. Her eyes don’t leave the picture floating before them. 

They state at it in silence, as if it will animate, explain the situation to them in plainer words. 

The thoughts in Tony's head ricochet around his skull, gaining velocity until they burst forward, ripping up his tongue as they spill into the air. 

“He didn’t even want to come to me.” Tony says. “He was thrown into a new universe, and he didn’t want to come to a version of the man who made all this for him.” Tony sweeps his arm.

“Where is his Tony, Pep?” Tony hisses, jabbing his finger towards the screen. “Monitoring him like big brother, and he couldn’t be fucked checking him for bruises myself? Outsourced his parenting to an AI. Couldn't come out of my study or off a mission to say 'nice job kid?'" 

“That, that isn’t you.” She says, still focused on the picture. Looking at Peter's arm around Morgan's stomach, stopping her from tipping over. Tony’s unsure if she’s talking to him or herself. 

“But it's me he's scared of! He won’t look me in the eye. Calls me sir. Like I used to call Howard. I tucked a pillow behind his head today Pep, and he looked at me and said 'Not real.'" 

Tony gasps, resting his head on the cool counter. 

He can still feel the photo hovering above his head. Accusing him. 

"He’s scared of me Pep. God. The victim becomes the perpetrator. Fucking cycle of shame. " 

Pepper doesn't reply. 

“You’ve seen that world. They idolise super heroes. Imagine having that over your head. He’s just a kid and some version of me put that on him. I probably shoved him out there like some fucked up eight legged version of Captain America.” Tony pulls at his hair. 

It doesn’t ground him at all. 

“Tony you don’t know that!” 

“I probably thought I struck gold. A fucking super spider genius for a son. Christ. He can’t go back there. I won't let him.” 

“What?” Pepper’s startled enough to tear her eyes from the picture, locking in on Tony. “You can’t just decide that!" 

"Look at that!” She demands, pointing to the picture that hovers before them. “That’s a family. That’s his family." 

“You think I don't know what a broken family looks like?” Tony yells. 

"He has a life Tony!" Pepper yells back. 

"Yeah, a shitty one!" 

Tony’s hyperventilating, he knows he is, but he can’t shove down the panic. 

"Language!" Morgan says, hovering at the edge of the kitchen anxiously. 

Tony scoops her up, hugging her tightly to him. He knows he’s too close to a meltdown for it to be a good idea. 

"That’s a funny picture." Morgan says. "Can we have pancakes for dinner?" 

"Sure baby, whatever you want." Pepper says. 

"I have a son Pep." Tony says as she pries Morgan from his desperate grip. 

_I have a son._

_I have a son._

_I have a son._

Somewhere in the distance, Tony's brain registers a faint ding. But that phrase is on repeat in his head, thoughts echoing as though there's still some part of the equation he's missing. 

And then he finds it. 

_My son is dead._

"Fuck Pep." Tony whispers. "He’s dead." 

But Pepper's not paying attention to Tony anymore. She's clutching at Morgan, staring towards the entrance way. 

Tony whips around, gauntlet deploying on panicked instinct. 

Peter’s frozen, a half step out of the elevator. He looks from Tony, to Pepper, the hovering photograph on the bench and back to Tony, wide eyed. 

Tony watches as the realisation crushes Peter's features into despair. 

"What did you do?" Peter cries out, "Karen, why would you show him that?" 

"I shut Karen down." Tony says tonelessly. 

He takes Peter in, his brain cataloguing random details. His left eyebrow is a little wild at it's curve. His nose, notched slightly at the bridge, as if it's been broken a few times. A line from the pillow running down his face. 

Tony takes a step towards Peter. 

Peter takes a step back. 

Tony realises he's still holding the gauntlet aloft and drops his hand. 

"You shut down Karen? But I need her! She's my- I need her!" Peter's frantic, eyes darting around the penthouse. 

Pepper comes around the counter, speaking in a low tone though her voice shakes. 

"Peter." 

"Oh my god Pepper, Mrs Stark, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." Peter hits the wall behind him and edges to the side, tripping as he skitters away. 

"I'm so sorry." He repeats. 

Peter's eyes flick left for a split second before he moves. 

Tony yells for FRIDAY to lock down the Tower and vaults the couch. He's too slow. Too late. 

Peter reaches the balcony door in a single bound, flinging it open. He scrambles over the railing and drops. 

Tony reaches the barrier in time to glimpse Peter slide down the skyscraper's windows, his dark form swallowed by the shadow of Stark Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cover face with hands*  
> Hey friends, how are you doing?
> 
> I was completely blown away by the response to last chapter's cliff hanger, thanks so much for all your comments. 
> 
> It didn't go down how you all thought it would, but what do you think?
> 
> (I've now seen FFH, and boy do I have feelings about it. But keep the comments spoiler free for others please!)


	11. Rooftop, Queens AU

Peter wakes in layers, like being unrolled from a snug blanket burrito. His senses come online gradually, to the smell of hot soldering irons and engine grease. He hears the comforting buzz of electronics on standby, and the occasional soft beeping. 

_Lab._ His brain supplies. 

He cracks one eye open to confirm. 

_Yep lab._

Peter closes his eye again and burrows his face into the pillow. He slept so well, and he clings to the edges of it. He and Tony must've done another all nighter. 

Something about that thought doesn't sit right with Peter, and he peeks an eye open again. 

DUM-E's snoozing in the corner, next to the blinking blue and green lights of FRIDAY's mainframe terminal. The workspace is oddly clean, and Peter's eyes sweep the lab for other inconsistencies. 

His gaze lands on the main workbench, where two portal devices sit. 

_Oh._

Peter remembers everything now. He rolls onto his back and presses his palms hard against his eyes. 

He waits for the wave of grief. Surprisingly, it only laps at him, as though his present state has provided a buffer of gentle acceptance. 

_This is alright._ Peter thinks in surprise. _I could live with this._

He hoists himself upright, looking about for Not-Tony. Padding over to the bench, he examines the logs, noting the batteries have made it off to Strange. 

He taps his fist against the workbench, considering his next move. 

"Hey FRIDAY, could you tell me where Not-Tony is?" He asks. 

"Upstairs in the kitchen with Pepper, young Master." 

Peter's eyes shoot up his forehead. 

"Young Master?" 

"Just trying it out." FRIDAY says. "Do you not like it?" 

Peter shifts uncomfortably. At home, FRIDAY calls Morgan Young Miss, a scrap of programming that echoes original JARVIS'S honorific system. 

"Just Peter is okay, thanks FRIDAY." 

Peter heads to the elevator, but slows as he approaches. The doors don't slide open for him. 

"FRIDAY can you please open the elevator doors?" Peter asks, feeling uncertain. He thought after breakfast he wasn't a prisoner anymore. 

"Where would you like to go?" FRIDAY asks pleasantly. 

"To the kitchen please." 

FRIDAY hesitates. 

"Am I restricted from the penthouse?" Peter asks nervously. 

"No." FRIDAY answers, sounding more like she's asking a question herself than making a statement. 

Peter's mind immediately goes to bad things, like it always does now when he feels uncertain. FRIDAY is being weird, Not-Tony's not around. Maybe he's got bad news about Peter going home. Maybe he's found something on that file Miss Romanov gave him. Maybe he's decided to hand Peter over to Fury. 

"FRIDAY take me to the kitchen." Peter demands, trying to keep his voice calm. 

FRIDAY hums, calculating her response. 

"I'm feeling weak, like my blood sugar's low. I may faint if I don't eat soon." Peter lies. 

The doors slide open and Peter enters nervously. The elevation slides upwards, and slows almost imperceptibly as it hits the floor. He can hear Pepper, Morgan and Not-Tony beyond the doors. 

A soft ding precedes the door opening. 

Peter waits. 

The doors don't open. 

Beyond the door, Peter can hear a movie playing. He hears Not-Tony gasp for breath, like he's panicking. 

Peter shoves his fingers between the elevator doors and applies pressure. 

"Fuck Pep." Not-Tony whispers. "He's dead." 

The doors slide open before Peter rips them off. 

His desperation flares, then stutters into incomprehension as he stares at the scene in the kitchen. He looks for Morgan and Pepper. 

He finds Not-Tony, gazing at Peter with horror. Pepper's beside him, tightly hugging Morgan to her hip. They're fine. 

A holograph hovers at the table behind them. It's the photo from breakfast, one of Peter's favourite. It's the new lock screen on his phone. _How did they get it?_

He looks back at Tony, and realises with a shock he's got his gauntlet raised. 

_Fuck Pep. He's dead_

_They know._

_Oh god._

They know Tony couldn't live without Peter, and because of that Morgan and Pepper have to live without Tony. 

And Tony's horrified. 

Words bounce around Peter's head, folding into an incoherent stream. 

Some of them spill out. Tony tells Peter he shut down Karen. 

He can't have. Peter needs Karen. She's the only one in this whole universe he can talk to freely. Who Tony trusted to keep Peter safe. 

Peter needs to get out. Needs to breathe. His eyes dart towards the balcony door and he lunges for it. 

* * *

Rescue finds him on the rooftop across from his old apartment. He's soaking wet, huddled in his hoodie, toes squishing in his combat boots after being caught in the earlier downpour. 

For the first few blocks as he ran from the tower it suited him, allowing him to forcefully maintain his misery. But whatever Dr Strange had done earlier had prevented a full spiral, or perhaps Peter is just starting to gain some perspective, having dealt with so many tragedies in his life. He'd realised pretty quickly that the situation wasn't as bad as he'd made it out to be. 

They were shocked and surprised, and Peter should have stayed around to answer any questions they had. Instead, he'd near shredded his fingertips in a barely controlled slide down the Tower, and run away. 

The Rescue suit touches elegantly onto the corner of the rooftop, and Pepper immediately folds the faceplate away. Peter tips his head and gives her a small, sheepish wave. She gives him a relieved smile back. 

It's misting from the earlier rain, the droplets catching in the streetlights and casting a warm haze over everything. Pepper comes over and sinks gracefully down beside him, folding the rest of the suit away except for her blue armour clad legs. 

Peter laughs. 

She raises an eyebrow at him. 

"You look like a half metal mermaid sitting like that." He explains. 

"It's wet!" She protests. 

Peter shakes his head. They sit in silence for a beat, Peter searching for something to say. 

"Android or cyborg?" Pepper asks. 

"What?" 

She gestures to her legs. 

"Would I be an android or cyborg mermaid?" Pepper asks. 

"Oh, um, a cyborg I guess. A merborg?" Peter shakes his head again. He reaches up self consciously to push at the curls stuck to his forehead. 

Pepper smiles. 

"I know he's hovering out there." Peter says. 

He sees the hesitation in her eyes, as if she's unsure whether to lie. He decides to save her. 

"I can hear your repulsors!" Peter yells into the night, hands cupped around his mouth. 

From a rooftop down the street Peter hears an abrupt clunking, then a muffled curse from Not-Tony. 

"Five out of ten for that landing." Peter yells again. 

"Who accredited him in that thing? You're much better." He says to Pepper. 

"We both just wanted to see that you're okay. You did throw yourself off a balcony an hour ago." Pepper pauses. "Are you okay?" 

Peter sighs. 

"Yeah. I'm sorry for freaking out. I'm a sympathetic freaker. And you guys looked really freaked." He says. 

"We were just, processing." Pepper supplies. 

Peter nods. 

"It doesn't make up for it, but we are sorry for invading Karen like that." Pepper pulls a bag out of her thigh plate and holds it out to Peter. 

It contains his webshooters, ear piece and throat mic. Peter reaches over and puts them on. 

"Hello Peter." Karen says quietly into his ear. "I apologise for not protecting those files." 

"It's okay Karen. We should've just told them." Peter waves a hand as if the AI can see him. 

They lapse into silence again. Peter can hear the buzz of Pepper's open comm line and imagines Not-Tony sitting on another rooftop, self combusting with curiousity in the silence. 

"I imagine you have questions," Peter says, giving them an opening. 

"We have a few, but nothing you're not willing to share." Pepper says. "I'll send Tony home." 

"It's okay Pepper. We both know he'll work himself into a state speculating. But can he stay on the other roof? Just listens in on comms? " Peter asks. 

Pepper nods in agreement. 

Not-Tony whispers a quiet thanks through the line. 

Peter's relieved by the easy acceptance. It will be hard enough to talk about this without Tony's face in front of him as a reminder. 

Peter re crosses his legs and folds his hands in his lap, wringing his fingers together. 

"Shoot." He says. 

"I'm not sure where to start." Pepper admits. "There's so much I'd like to know about you." 

Peter would tip over in surprise if he wasn't already sitting. 

Although when he thinks about it, Iron Man dying for half the universe probably makes sense to them. 

_Peter Parker is the unknown variable._

"Pretty weird to see me with your kid right?" Peter says, stalling as he considers where to start. 

"Weird but nice." Pepper says. "You seem really close." 

"Oh we are." Peter nods enthusiastically. "I've only known her for a few months, because she was born in the time I was snapped, um Tony told you about that right?" 

"Right, well, I'm trying to make up for it now, I promise. We do classes together on Saturday's, last term she was doing swimming with Happy, but he got the flu so I took her and it just went from there. This term she wanted to do dance so that's what we're doing." 

Peter taps open Karen, and leans over to show Pepper a photo of Morgan and an unimpressed Happy gripping kickboards, and another of Peter guiding Morgan through a twirl. Peter watches Pepper examine the photos. He's sure she notices how the other adults and children in the classes match one another. 

"We don't want her to feel like she's missing out on anything." Peter says quietly. 

"She's very lucky to have you." Pepper says. 

"She'd rather have Tony, of course, but she handles it like her Mum, very dignified." Peter shifts uncomfortably again as the guilt twinges in his stomach. 

He eyes Pepper, who's adopted a serene mask like the Mona Lisa. 

"You and Pepper seem close too." She says. 

"She's great. Very supportive. I actually learnt a lot from her. I used to hide from Tony in her office when I had homework. It worked too because he'd never come in incase she asked him to do something. We ate a lot of carrot sticks together." 

"That sounds really wonderful." Pepper trails her fingers through the beads of water collecting on the Rescue armour. "This is nice. Do you come to this rooftop often to think?" Pepper asks. 

"I used to live right there," Peter points his chin towards the apartment window. "That's also the apartment where one day I came home and Tony freaking Stark was sitting in my living room. I idolised him of course. Super hero and super genuis to see me? It blew my mind. Then he said he knew who I was, and he recruited me for Germany." 

"What was in Germany?" Pepper asks carefully. 

" Oh, um. The Rouge Avengers?" Peter replies, wondering if he'd opened a can of worms. 

"Were you involved in the conflict?" 

"Only the physical side." He assures her. "But Tony benched me before I could be seriously injured." 

Pepper doesn't look reassured. The sounds of traffic momentarily swells, tires swishing on the wet road. 

"Anywho, Tony sent me home with Happy, and I didn't hear anything from them until I got dropped in a lake, but you don't want to hear about that, um, how to abbreviate it. I got in over my head trying to stop an alien weapons dealer, caused like 440 million dollars worth of damage to public property, almost died like, four times and stopped the theft of a plane load of Avengers tech." 

"Toombes." Pepper says. 

"Oh. Yeah." Peter says. "I guess that happened here too." 

"You almost died?" Pepper asks. "Where was Tony?" 

"A business trip I think? We weren't really talking at that stage, him having cut me off and all." Peter wiggles on the spot again. "It was a bit of a mess honestly." 

"Tony cut you off?" Pepper's mask is cracking around the edges. 

"Only because I was being super reckless and disobedient. But only because he withheld information from me. The arguement gets pretty circular from there. He just wanted me to be better. I just wanted to impress him. That old story." 

"Alright," says Pepper, switching back into her calm and contained mode. "So after Toombes was thwarted?" 

"This is why I love you Pepper. Or the other you. You can chairperson like a boss, and you can say words like thwarted with a straight face. Tony offered me a spot on the Avengers and a place in the compound." 

"So that's when you started living with us?" Pepper asks. 

"What?" Peter's voice cracks a little. "No, I never lived with you. I lived with May, here in Queens. I turned down my spot with the Avengers, but Tony started training me anyway." 

"Peter," Pepper asks hesitantly. "Has Tony ever publicly acknowledged you?" 

Peter's not sure what to make of the question. 

"Hmm? I've got a clip on my phone of him saying that Spider-Man is the smartest Avenger." 

"Not as Spider-Man, as Peter." Pepper says. 

Peter scrunches up his face. 

"I had a fake slash real Stark Industries internship? My identity was kept pretty secret. Wait, did you want proof or something?" 

Pepper shakes her head, and assures Peter that they believe him. 

"I guess things might have changed eventually, but," Peter shrugs, "then I was taken in the snap, so." 

Peter pulls his legs up towards himself, pulling his sleeves done over his fists. Talking this Pepper is nice. She doesn't know Peter, and she's not struggling with Tony's death too much, because her real husband is on a rooftop across the road. 

"Can I tell you something I could never tell my Pepper?" The words come out of Peter's mouth as he thinks them. 

Pepper's still folded serenely on the rooftop, looking like she's chosen to be here, sitting in a puddle on a random Queens rooftop, listening to Peter unburden himself. 

It's a lot, what he wants to say. But everyone's been telling him not to keep things inside. 

And this thing feels especially toxic. 

"Sometimes it feels like, maybe they shouldn't have brought me back." Peter says. 

He glances over at Pepper. 

"I'm not suicidal or anything." he clarifies hastily, seeing her shocked expression. "I'm super grateful to be back. I won't waste a second of what he gave me. The therapist I see says I'm just going through a normal adjustment period. She was Tony's therapist too. How weird is that right?" He jokes. 

Pepper attempts a small smile for him, but her eyes look desperately sad. 

Peter plows forward 

"It's just, I was an anomaly, something unplanned, just a kid who blundered into Tony's life through a series of accidents. But Morgan, she was purposeful. She was brought into their life intentionally. His second chance. When I was gone it's not like I knew any better. And now I do." 

He sits for a moment, listening to the faint hiss of Pepper's comm. He wait for Not-Tony to say something, but he's not sure what. It's not like there's much a stranger can say to him about this. 

"I probably didn't explain that properly. I don't feel like this all the time." Peter says to fill the silence. "Just sometimes when it gets hard." 

Pepper's watch buzzes subtly on her wrist. She glanced down at it. 

"Peter." She leans across and places her hand on his forearm. "Tony would like to come down to the rooftop. Would that be okay?" 

Peter agrees, although he's still not sure what he wants Not-Tony to do. It just seems important that he's here. This man, this alternate universe Tony, might be the only one close enough to answer Peter's questions for him. 

He blinks back his tears as the repulsors charge up and Not-Iron Man swings around, angling himself so he's approaching in Peter's full view. 

He clunks onto the rooftop and steps out of his armour. 

His eyes are soft and sad. 

He looks just like Tony. 

"I'm not him Peter." Not-Tony says gently. 

Peter nods, and scrubs at his cheek with his sleeve. 

"I'm sorry I ran away." Peter whispers. 

"You don't have to apologise for anything. I'm sorry for everything." Not-Tony says back. 

Peter nods again, glancing over at Pepper. She looks like she might cry. Peter's a sympathetic crier. 

Tony clears his throat and takes slow steps forward, sinking into a crouch just before Peter. 

"Can I touch you?" He asks hesitantly. 

Peter nods again, feeling his throat close up. 

Not-Tony reaches his left hand out, cautiously. Peter expects it to go to his shoulder. 

It doesn't. 

Not-Tony brushes the wet curls back off Peter's forehead with shaking fingers. 

He brings his hand around and cups Peter's cheek, scanning his face. 

_Take a good look Not-Tony._

_This is the thing._

_This is the thing he died to get back._

The warmth of Not-Tony's hand seeps into Peter's skin. Fat teardrops roll down his cheeks, channeling along the edges of Not-Tony's fingers. Peter wants to close his eyes but he won't. 

_Take a good look._

_Was it worth it?_

_Is it okay Tony did this for me?_

More tears spill over. 

Not-Tony brushes them away with his thumb. 

Tony would never treat Peter so carefully. Tony would firmly clap a hand on his shoulder, or pull him into a bone crunching hug, or smack a kiss on his cheek. 

Tony wouldn't hold Peter's face hesitantly, like Peter's delicate. He wouldn't just stare at Peter like this, like he's looking for something in Peter's face. 

_Can you see if I am worth it?_

Peter cries. 

Not-Tony looks. 

_What do you think?_

Peter knows this man is not Tony. 

But he is a version of Tony.

A version with his own Pepper and Morgan who he loves very much. 

And he's looking at Peter like he's something amazing. 

_Maybe it's okay?_

"It's okay kid." Not-Tony says. "I got you." 

"I got you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks to everyone for reading, giving kudos and commenting! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, still no closer to getting my Spidey boy back to his universe but he's still moving forwards. 
> 
> I've written this chapter on my phone (so annoying) so apologies for any typos/ missing words, please point them out if they bugged you!


	12. Kronborg Castle, Helsingør, Denmark, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Must you always be so dramatic?” Strange snaps, Wong at his elbow. 
> 
>  
> 
> “Me dramatic?” Tony whisper yells. “You’re the dramatic one! You can’t just snatch people out of thin air Strange!” 
> 
>  
> 
> Behind him, he hears Pepper give an exasperated huff and lower her force field. The sound echoes in the hall, as the gauntlets power down. A quiet dripping replaces the buzz. 
> 
>  
> 
> “Why are we whispering?” Wong whispers to Tony. “And why is the boy wet?”

Peter has two freckles on his face, and they're both on his nose. 

Tony's unsure why, out of everything he's discovered about the boy, his boy, that's what he's fixated on, but there it is. Maybe it's because in the school picture of Peter, taken around his thirteenth birthday, his face is smattered with bright freckles. And now, those prominent dots are gone, all but the two on his nose, the rest lightly watermarked across the crest of his cheekbones and along his jaw. 

_When did he grow out of them?_ Tony wonders. 

_Did it happen gradually?_

_Did he just wake up one day and his mother wondered where her freckle faced baby went?_

_Will they be back in the summer?_

There’s a thousand things Tony doesn’t fully understand about this situation, like who May Parker is, or why he never knew about his son, but he knows that what happened to the freckles on Peter's cheeks is something all the research in the world will never reveal to him. 

_Peter is something he’ll never be able to know._

He feels deep regret sink into his bones as he looks at Peter's hair fluffing over the shoulder of Pepper's Rescue armour. Pepper flies hesitantly, Peter webbed to her like a sticky koala, Tony hovering close behind her, just in case. 

Peter could slip, or there might be an unexpected gust of wind, or a helicopter might swing too close to their retroflector cloaked suits. The giddy apprehension and uncertainty of getting Peter home feels familiar to Tony. 

They’re so focused on their cargo, he and Pepper, that Tony reacts too slowly to the electric hum that vibrates his armour against his skin. Tony grabs the collar of Pepper’s suit, pulling her back as the air begins snap and spark around them. A breach in the night sky spins open, swallowing the trio whole. 

They come through the other side in a large, echoing hall. Tony and Pepper automatically spin back to back as Pepper deploys her shielding, encasing herself and Peter. Tony raises his hands, calling his energy cannons as he turns with Pepper. Tapestries and candelabras line the walls, bathed in macabre green shadows as they circle, searching for threats. 

Tony finds the light source. At the end of the room a tear in the air bleeds emerald light cross the hall. The light pulses softly, and Tony’s skin crawls in matching waves. He glances at Pepper, who has one gauntlet raised, the other cradled protectively around Peter’s head. Peter, who’s barely twitched throughout their sudden relocation. 

“Is he, asleep?” Tony asks, incredulously, switching to Pepper’s other side to see more of Peter’s buried face. 

Approaching footsteps have Tony jetting between his family and the door. The sound doubles to two distinct strides, and Tony braces his legs in a defensive stance, preparing to fire. He pulls back a split second before blasting an annoyed looking Stephen Strange in the face. 

“Must you always be so dramatic?” Strange snaps, Wong at his elbow. 

“Me dramatic?” Tony whisper yells. “You’re the dramatic one! You can’t just snatch people out of thin air Strange!” 

Behind him, he hears Pepper give an exasperated huff and lower her force field. The sound echoes in the hall, as the gauntlets power down. A quiet dripping replaces the buzz. 

“Why are we whispering?” Wong whispers to Tony. “And why is the boy wet?” 

“Well, we were trying to take him home and towel him off.” Tony snarks. “So if you’d just click your heels thanks Dorothy, that’s where we’ll go.” 

“We’re trying to get him home too, Stark.” Strange gestures towards the bleeding green light. “And look here, an interdimensional portal.” 

Tony takes a step back. 

“That’s Peter’s portal?” He asks. 

He glances back at Pepper. Her hand still cups the back of Peter’s head. Tony feels the motion in his own fingers, as if they are joined. 

“It’s likely.” Strange says. 

“Likely?” Tony steps back again so he’s level with Pepper, raising an arm to hover behind her back. 

He looks at the pulsing light leaking through the fabric of the universe at the end of the room, feeling sick. He tries to imagine Peter going through it, would he squeeze through the rip? Or just be taken when he gets too close? 

He thinks of Peter gasping on the floor after the portal energy had ripped through him. 

_-Just stay with Dad-_

“Likely?” He repeats. “Or certain?” 

“The universe has a way of working these things out. Peter will end up where he needs to be.” Strange says calmly. 

He shares a glance with Pepper. Her face is its usual serene mask, but Tony can feel the iron in her spine. 

“Like hell.” Tony raises his other hand to point at Strange. “I’m not sending him through on some magical mojo trust exercise. ” 

“Well I can’t leave this portal open.” Strange snaps back. 

“Then close it.” Tony hisses, his voice swallowed by the vast room. 

The green light bounces off the sides of the Sorcerer’s faces, glowing brighter as they give him identical considering looks. 

Tony feels exposed before them, as though he’s shrinking under their numinous gaze. He glances back at Pepper, looks at how her fingers are threaded through Peter’s hair. He catches her eye, and she tilts her head almost imperceptibly. 

He comes back into himself in an instant, like he’s been powered back up. 

He flicks his wrists with a hint of drama, rearranging his gauntlets. 

“You still have the batteries correct?” He asks Strange. 

Strange rolls his fingers to match Tony’s theatrics and conjures the two batteries, floating them above his fingertips. 

“I went back to two of the previous sites, and collected some of the spare energies.” Strange floats them over towards Tony and he snatches them from the air. 

“These are only 70% full.” Tony says, frowning. 

“Yes but as your protégé pointed out, he only requires 60% to power the devices sufficiently for his return trip.” 

Tony bounces the batteries in his armoured hand and they clink together, emitting small waves of green energy. He pushes the circumstances aside, thinks of the two freckles on Peter’s nose, then forces his brain to work the problem. 

The rift energy flares suddenly, illuminating the room and reaching for them. Peter jolts awake, kicking back from Pepper, scrambling away from the light. She half catches him as the webbing rips from her armour and Peter slides towards the ground, flickering colours as he does. 

Peter pants as the green light laps at him. 

“I don’t wanna- May- Where’s May?” He looks about desperately, eyes glazing over. 

Tony drops to the floor beside him and Peter grabs his forearms. The armour buckles under Peter’s fingertips and Tony redirects nanites, reinforcing the plating there. 

“Tony. You're here.” Peter wheezes. 

“You’re alright.” Tony hoists Peter up, cradling him half in his lap, glancing around frantically. 

He can feel Peter shifting under his hands. Tony’s suit is going crazy, the Spider-boo boo protocol flaring in his glasses and alarms blaring. 

"Peter," Doctor Strange says evenly. "Listen to me. I know it's frightening, but if you just relax, let the energy take you-" 

“It's hurting him Strange.” Tony yells desperately. "Get rid of it!" 

He looks up to see the two Sorcerers casting signs in the air forcefully towards the rift. He glances away from them, holding the back of Peter’s head. Focuses on Peter’s face, on telling him everything is going to be okay. Peter flashes immaterially in his hands, a million colours in one. 

Pepper throws up a force field and the green light drops back slightly. 

“Could we fly him away from here?” Pepper asks from over Tony’s shoulder. 

“Don’t move him yet! He's half formed.” Strange snaps over his shoulder, grunting as he pushes a wave of orange energy towards the rift. 

The orange energy flows like fluid over the green rift with a sharp fizzing sound. The rift knits itself back together from the edges, the green energy bleeding thinner and thinner until it zips closed with a hiss. The room darkens. 

Peter goes solid and slack in Tony’s arms. 

“Pete!” Tony shakes him. “Kid!” 

“It’s alright Tony. He’s just fatigued. The breech is closed, he’s fine where he is.” Strange pushes Tony’s hands from Peter’s face, extending a finger to tap the middle of Peter’s forehead, releasing a wave of glimmering energy. 

Peter lets out an audible sigh and his eyes flutter open. 

“Oh. Hi.” He says, looking up at Tony. 

The light from Tony’s arc reactor reflects in Peter’s brown eyes. 

“Hi.” Tony says back softly, pushing back Peter’s hair. He blinks back the sharp prickle of tears. 

“Is everybody okay?” Peter says, craning his neck. “Wow that rift really wanted to take me huh? How’s that for a PTSD inducing-” 

Tony watches as he trails off. Puzzlement crosses his face as he absorbs the high painted ceilings and tapestry covered walls. He shifts in Tony’s lap a little, and Tony lifts his hands, but Peter makes no effort to pull himself up so Tony places his hands back down, hesitantly resting one in Peter’s hair, the other on his chest. 

“Where are we?” Peter asks. “It’s fancy.” 

“Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.” Wong says in reply, sitting cross legged across from him. 

“Heaven will direct it.” Peter shoots back automatically, scanning his eyes around. “Seriously, we’re in Kronborg castle?” 

“You know your Shakespeare.” Wong observes, poking Peter’s forehead again, releasing another wave of energy. 

Peter’s eyelids flutter again. Wong waves his hand once more and Peter’s suit steams on his body, rapid drying as he shudders a little. 

"Yeah, Fury’s just an ass-" Peter sighs. "Thank you, Mister Wong." 

“Feel like a cheese toastie again kid?” Tony asks hesitantly, unsure whether he can insert himself into jokes with Peter, but he just turns his face up to Tony with a lazy smile. 

“Not like a cheese toastie, _like_ a cheese toastie. You know, warm, melty, yellow.” 

“Cheesey.” Tony supplies. 

“Yeah,” Peter hums. “Cheesey.” 

“Go back to sleep bud.” Tony whispers. 

“You’re not the boss of me, tin man.” Peter replies, then promptly drifts off. 

"Why was it hurting him like that?" Pepper asks, reaching across to touch Peter's wrist. 

"It shouldn't have hurt him. I think he was afraid, and his resistance is causing the extra disturbance. His universe needs him badly, so the pull was strong." Wong says calmly. 

"Of course he's afraid." Pepper says. "That was awful." 

"What are you doing? When you zap him, or whatever?" Tony asks, pulling his eyes from Peter’s face to look up at Strange, who has also settled on the floor across from Tony. 

Strange claps his hands twice and the candles around them roar to life. He flicks his hand again, manifesting a tea set and pouring four cups for the group. 

Tony reflects for a moment on the scene, two elaborately robed wizards and two metal clad human, having a tea party in the dark on the floor of a fifteenth century castle, crowded around one impossible teenager. An impossible teenager who, even more impossibly, is letting out soft snuffles in Tony’s lap. 

“This seems like it’s going to be a discussion.” Strange says, settling in. "Alternate dimensions, as you've discovered, all possess unique energy frequencies, as do the objects that come from them. When I _zap_ Peter, I'm conducting an energy transfer which will temporarily align his structure more closely to that of energy outputs in our world." 

"So an altered energy pattern? Could we manufacture that for him?" Pepper asks. 

“Perhaps on the physical plane, yes, but we're also adjusting his metaphysical energies too.” 

“Come again for someone who hasn't read Harry Potter?” Tony says. 

“We are making minor adjustments to his soul and his potential.” Wong supplies. 

“You can touch his potential?” Tony asks. 

“Of everything he was, is and ever will be. He has a rather large footprint in the fate of his universe. His soul already contains heavy tidemarks from recent exposures to Infinity energies.” Strange says. 

“What would it take to keep him here, on a more permanent basis?” Tony asks, risking flicking his eyes over to Pepper. She's composed, intently focused on Doctor Strange. 

For a brief second, Tony indulges himself. Imagines the wizard has some perfect solution for him. 

“Has he expressed a wish to stay?” Strange arches an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Tony. 

“I'm just prepping contingencies Doctor. But he sure as hell didn't look keen to be taken.” He says smoothly. 

He ignores the feeling of his perfect solution slipping away as Strange looks him over, steepling his fingers together. The room sits in heavy silence as the candlelight dances sharply across Strange’s solemn features. 

“Peter's world contains significant trauma Stark, but it contains significant love as well.” He says. 

“He would have that here too.” Tony doesn’t flinch away from Strange's hard stare. 

"Yes." He says eventually. "I see that he would. Staying on a longer-term basis is not impossible, although it will extract a heavy toll on the boy's energy. His enhancements will help, certainly, as will his extraordinary strength of character. However, the ultimate end to an out of universe residency will be a dramatic degeneration, before his natural mortality date. Given that he has already felt a death like this once, I don't suggest we condemn him to this fate again.” 

“He, what-" Tony falters. 

“You need to be kind to him Tony.” The Sorcerer says. “For the short time he is here.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written and rewritten this chapter, my gosh. It's been a sticky one, and bugging the heck out of me. 
> 
> Turns out all I had to do was relocate it to a castle in Denmark, although still not 100% sold on how it came out.
> 
> Let me know if you caught the subtle FFH ref ;) 
> 
> Also, can someone please clarify for me exactly when Peter was supposed to be born? Because, I've been trying to put it in a timeline to work out how old he was for what events, and there is NO CONSISTENCY!


	13. The Iron Diner, Manhattan AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I probably should’ve let the portal take me. May is going to be freaking out. I’m worried about my classmates. And like, the world. Do you think Doctor Strange will get those batteries back to us soon?”
> 
>  
> 
> Tony resists the urge to put his hand in his pocket and give himself away.
> 
>  
> 
> “You know Strange. He takes his sweet ass time with these things.” Tony says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, deliberately casual. 
> 
>  
> 
> _I’m just not ready yet._

“Excuse me Sir, uh, Not-Tony.” 

Tony’s head whips up and he stops his pacing to see Peter hovering in the doorway. It’s a blessing to have Peter in his space again. Tony’s discovering the second Peter disappears from sight, he has to fight against a frantic spiral of desperation and grief. Getting lost in the self loathing of the questions that were in Peter’s eyes as he cried on the roof, and Tony’s inability to answer them. Getting lost in the whole life one Tony has missed, and one Tony has squandered, and the heavy weight of how awful life is for one boy with the misfortune of Tony as a father. It helps, for some reason, to see Peter, real and present, taking up space in Tony’s world. 

Peter himself looks better, hair damp at the edges and dressed in a pair of borrowed sweats. Tony absorbs the sight of the teen rolling his fingers anxiously in Tony’s oversized tee shirt. 

It’s from the ACDC Rock or Bust tour, and if Tony just ignores everything he knows about this universe and the other, he can pretend he and Peter went to that concert, together. Maybe at Madison Square Gardens, maybe in Vegas, just a kid rolling his eyes at his Dad’s old school taste in music. 

“Yeah, Peter, come on in, come on in.” Tony waves at Peter as he takes a seat on the lounge, trying to make himself look as relaxed and nonthreatening as possible. “You all ready for bed bud?” 

Peter shoots him an odd look and shuffles over to perch on the other edge of the lounge. 

“Uh, yeah thanks for letting me stay upstairs.” Peter smiles hesitantly at Tony. “And no handcuffs.” 

Peter looks down at his wrists, wriggling them a little. It doesn’t escape Tony’s notice that Peter’s still wearing his wrist cuffs, web shooters Peter calls them, but he’s willing to go along with whatever makes Peter feel safe. He waits, watching Peter struggle with something. 

Peter frowns, biting the inside of his cheek, turning the right corner of his mouth down more than the left, and Tony recognises the movement before he can complete it. He can't see himself physically in Peter, but he knows the kid's expressions. It's that déjà vu again. He knows Peter, from dreams or some deep biological choreography. The acknowledgement sings with Tony's pulse. 

_I know you._

_I know you, I know you, I know you._

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry-” Peter starts, then holds up his hand as Tony starts protesting. “I know I could’ve gone home tonight.” 

Tony wants to protest more, but clamps his mouth closed and settles back, letting him speak. 

“I probably should’ve let the portal take me. May is going to be freaking out. I’m worried about my classmates. And like, the world. Do you think Doctor Strange will get those batteries back to us soon?” 

Tony resists the urge to put his hand in his pocket and give himself away. 

“You know Strange. He takes his sweet ass time with these things.” Tony says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, deliberately casual. 

_I’m just not ready yet._

“Well, Doctor Strange was right tonight. I could have gone. It, it didn’t hurt that much. It was just the sensation of disintegrating. I’ve felt that way before. That’s how, um, I got taken. Died. Snapped. Whatever. And having you there, it was just, it felt too much like last time.” 

Peter flexes his fingers, looking at his hand. Tony wonders what he’s seeing when he does that, his eyes far away. 

“It scared me.” Peter confesses quietly. 

Tony doesn’t know what to say to that, aware he can’t comfort him like he would Morgan or making some snarky joke like he would anyone else. He taps his fingers against his knee as he looks out the balcony window at the blinking city lights. He tries to imagine the way he wishes his father would have spoken to him. 

“I think it probably takes a lot to scare you, kid. I can tell you’re made of tough stuff. So if you thought it was too much to go today, then it was too much to go today.” Tony says. 

“I’m not feeling so tough lately.” Peter mumbles. 

“And that’s alright too.” Tony reassures him, shifting closer on the couch. 

“I know.” Peter shoots him a brief smile. “That’s something Ben always used to say. We feel how we feel, and there’s never any shame in that. It’s how we act throughout it that’s important.” 

“He sounds like a smart man.” 

And he sounds like a good man. A better man, for sure, than Tony has ever been. A better father too. 

“He was. He was the best. He raised me, him and May, and he always said he wanted me to grow up right.” 

“Then I think he did a pretty good job.” 

“We’ll see. I’m not done growing up yet.” 

Peter meets Tony’s eyes, and he’s somehow infinitely wise and young at the same time. 

_How did I miss you?_ Tony wants to ask him. _How did I not know that I missed you my whole life?_

They lapse into silence, and Peter lets his eyes close and takes a deep breath. Tony watches as his eyelashes flutter as he crunches his face up in concentration, then tilts his head to the side. Peter takes another two steadying breaths. 

“Would you like to run through the periodic table with me?” Tony suggests weakly, out of his depth again, outpaced by his damn own AI systems on knowing how to help. 

Peter’s eyes snap open. 

“Huh?” He asks. 

Tony hesitates, unsure what to bring up. Peter’s face clears with comprehension. 

“Oh no, I’m not freaking out. I was just listening. I’m the one stressing you out.” 

“That’s not true.” Tony protests. 

“Spider hearing.” Peter points to himself. “Doctor Strange’s adjustments plus the extra sleep have really settled my senses. So I can hear, well, lots now. FRIDAY’s sensors are buzzing, wire in the corner speaker probably needs to be replaced.” Peter waves vaguely around the room. 

“Uh, Pepper’s negotiating with Morgan over the number of plushies on her bed.” He points towards the bedrooms. 

“Happy’s sleeping downstairs.” Peter points to the floor. “His heart arrythmia is pretty unique. And annoying. Once I pick it up it’s like a ticking clock, I can’t unhear it.” 

“Your, um. Your heartbeat too.” Peter looks away. 

“Do you just put spider at the start of everything when describing yourself?” Tony asks dumbly, because he can’t quite wrap his head around that little revelation. Happy’s apartment is two whole floors down. 

Peter’s startled laugh is like a burst of fireworks. 

_I know you, I know you, I know you._

“Yeah, it drove my Tony crazy too.” He says. “Spider strength, spider speed, I tried to convince him to let me build a Spider-Mobile once, but I totalled a classmate’s car, so. I have one real spider power, my Spider sense. But everyone’s insisting on calling that one my Peter tingle, which I friggin hate.” 

“Oh-kay. Let’s circle back on that one at some other time. But first, you aren’t stressing me out.” Tony says. 

“I’m totally stressing you out.” 

“I’m not stressed. I’m just processing.” Tony says, aiming for honesty but falling short. 

He had felt sick, so sick, when Peter had said he had felt like an accident in Tony’s life. That he questioned if it was worth bringing him back from whatever hellish death the Snap had brought on him. That any child could feel that way- 

“Processing is just adult speak for stressed.” Peter argues. 

“Not gonna lie then. What you said on the roof hit me hard. About coming back. I hate that you feel that way.” Tony admits. 

“It’s a crazy complicated situation in my universe. I can’t even describe it all to you-“ 

They’re interrupted by Morgan rocketing into the lounge room and scrambling onto the back of the couch. It's almost a welcome interruption, Tony doesn't know how he'll deal with knowing the shit that's gone down in Peter's world, where Peter thinks there are worse things than his cells coming apart. 

Morgan tenses, about to throw herself on Tony’s shoulders when she sees Peter and gasps, ducking back behind the couch. Tony twists, reaching back over the cushions and hauling Morgan over the couch, his back protesting strenuously, and drops her in his lap. 

“Hello Lady Morgana. Have you come to say goodnight?” Tony asks, straightening her pajama top. 

Morgan eyes Tony reproachfully, pushing his hands away and straightening her shirt herself. She sneaks a look at Peter, who gives her a wave, then props herself up, cupping her hand to Tony’s ear. 

“I want to tell Peter a bedtime story.” She says, not whispering at all. 

Tony looks at her with mock surprise, then cups his own hand around her ear and not whispers back. 

“I think that’s a great idea kiddo, why don’t you ask him.” Tony not whispers back. 

“No, you ask him.” Morgan wiggles on his lap, and Tony winces as her bony knees dig into his thigh. 

They turn to Peter, Tony with his eyebrows raised theatrically, to find him watching them, pained tears brimming in his eyes. 

_Oh shit._

“Oh no!” Morgan scrambles off Tony’s lap, kicking him in the stomach as she does. 

His resulting wheeze just gives a physical sensation to the emotional sucker punch of seeing his son cry for the second time today. Tony’s once again floundering, out of his depth, as someone else in his family picks up the slack. 

Morgan reaches for Peter’s face carefully, patting his cheeks, head and shoulder as she tells him it’s okay, looking too serious for her four years. 

Tony doesn’t even know where she got that from. 

“I’m alright Mo.” Peter smiles at her, even as the tears spill over, taking her hands from his face and clapping them together. “You’ve just got a really good dad.” 

* * *

Tony startles abruptly awake to his phone buzzing insistently. It’s 1:48 am. He’s been asleep for barely forty minutes. He can’t believe he fell asleep in the first place. 

"What?" He snaps into his phone as he rolls away from Pepper, keeping his voice low. 

He eyes the monitoring systems, finding both his children sleeping soundly in the guest room. Exactly as they were forty minutes ago. 

"Diner, twenty minutes." A low voice tells him. 

Tony throws himself out of bed before Natasha can even hang up and rips open the door to their walk-in closet. He hops down the hallway, yanking on shoes and swapping into a band shirt from the wash pile. He wipes his hands on it, being sure to cake some grease into his nail beds and creases in his fingers, a visible short hand for a late-night building binge. 

He only pauses to stick his head into the guest room, just for visual confirmation that Morgan and Peter are both okay before he leaves. 

He barely avoids screeching out if the car park and has FRIDAY do the driving, to avoid lead footing it to the Iron Diner. The whole way, he holds his left wrist, tapping a beat into his pulse point with his fingertips, screaming metal songs in his head to hold off another spiral. 

It's been a long while since Nat's called him for a covert meeting, and the certainty it pertains to Peter's SHIELD file burns a hole of dread in his stomach. 

Tony makes it to the diner in fifteen, and is shredding the doughnut a waitress set in front of him when Nat wanders over, coffee pot in hand. 

"Do you actually work here?" Tony asks. "Cos you've got that whole, tired bored waitress thing down." 

Natasha pops her gum at him, leaning her hip against the table. Tony doesn't miss the way she's using her head tilt to complete a surveillance sweep of the car park. 

"Pay's good." Natasha says. "There's plenty of intel to be had around too." 

"Intel? Here?" 

"Why do you think it's called the Iron Diner?" She raises an eyebrow. 

"Um, after me?" Tony says. 

She smirks. 

"Definitely not." 

"What's up?" Tony asks, wiggling his coffee cup at her. 

Nat sighs and pretends to be put out by filling his cup. Fifties rock and roll swings along in the background. Tony wants to smash in the jukebox. 

"I might need some tactical support." She says. 

“You know I don't do that anymore.” Tony reminds her, with an edge to his voice. 

It’s always been a point of contention between Tony and Natasha that Tony never rejoined the Avengers after all that shit went down with the Accords. The world might still need its mightiest hero’s, but they only get Tony on a true consultation basis now. Just as Natasha always intended, all those years ago. 

“It's to do with your interloper.” She says. 

Tony stiffens. Confirmation of his fear sets him on the edge of another spiral. 

“What did you find?” Tony asks, carefully placing his cup down to hide the tremor in his hands. 

“More like, what didn't I find, you remember the Project Insight? He was identified-” 

“He would’ve been what, 12 then?” Tony interrupts incredulously. 

“Regardless, he was tagged by threat matrix. After that he was monitored, they all were. But it wasn’t until around the time of his death l started finding footprints from other SHIELD projects after my data leak. His file has been linked to the Winter soldier program review, something called project Tahiti, even the Weapons Plus project. Each contact is just a ghost imprint, scrubbed and buried. This is serious shit.” 

"Christ. His enhancements." 

"He would have been very valuable." Natasha confirms. 

Tony rubs a hand down his face. Takes a shaky breath and decides to do the one thing he’s never sure of, with Natasha. Trust. 

“He's mine Nat.” He say quietly. 

If he didn’t know her so well he’d miss the double blink. 

“You have proof of that?” She asks evenly. 

“Even if I didn't, I'd know anyway. I've got that feeling.” 

“What feeling?” 

“Like something wrong in my life just got righted. Like for the first time in my life I don't have to chase a single thing in the world because it's all in front of me.” Tony admits. 

“You know I don't believe in those kind of feelings.” Natasha says. 

Tony can see the concern in her eyes. But he also knows her, and if anyone in the world can find out what happened to his son, and why, he knows she can do it. 

“I thought it was happy endings you didn't believe in.” He says, aiming for nonchalance but fumbling when he tries to pick his coffee cup back up. 

“Those too.” She deadpans. 

“Trust me, I don't feel like I’m being handed a happy ending here.” 

"No one ever hands you anything Tony.” Natasha says, dropping a comms chip on the table with a handful of coins. “Your change." 

She walks on to the table in the corner of the diner, coffee pot in hand, to refill someone else’s mug. 

* * *

Tony leans against the door frame to the guest bedroom, watching Peter and Morgan sleep. Morgan’s wiggled herself sideways across the pillows, breathing heavily through her mouth. Peter’s got one hand tucked under his head, the other squashed under his sister’s back. 

"I've got time for you, Peter. No matter how complicated the story." Tony had promised him before Morgan had led him off down the hallway. Peter had looked like him, unreadable again. Maybe Peter could tell that Tony can feel every second slipping through his fingers. 

“Am I being creepy?” Tony whispers, as Pepper walks softly up to lean against him. 

“You're being very creepy.” Pepper assures him. 

Her gaze follows his line of sight to the children sleeping in the bed. 

“I thought you put her to bed.” 

Pepper moves to gather Morgan from the bed. Tony grabs desperately at her wrist. 

“Peter’s about to get a foot in the face.” Pepper whispers. 

“Hey- just let her stay” Tony pleads. “Just, leave her there.” 

Pepper comes to stand by Tony’s side again. 

“He requested that shirt specifically.” Pepper says into his ear. “Says he sleeps in it at home.” 

Tony had thought he’s had every type of pain imaginable live in his chest. He’s had bombs shatter his sternum, palladium burn slow poison into his veins with every heartbeat, the crushing doom that comes with a heart attack and the sharp stab of a vibranium shield cave in his chest plate. 

But none of it, not a single moment Tony’s survived up until this day, had felt anything like the complete evisceration of his insides when he heard the cracked longing in Peter’s voice, him telling Morgan she had a good dad. Tony feels it echo now in his hollow chest, and knows it will bounce around inside him until the day he dies. 

“I just found him Pep. And the other him- What do we do?” Tony asks. 

“For now, we'll celebrate the Peter that's here. Later, we'll grieve the one that's gone." 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Thanks so much for reading, let me know in the comments how things are going for you!! 
> 
> As for the next update, don't expect it for about a week and a half,  
> cos I'm going on vacation!


	14. Kitchen, Stark Tower, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Peter made breakfast Honey.” Not-Tony tells Pepper.
> 
>  
> 
> “Peter made breakfast?” She sounds touched, as if Peter’s never made breakfast before. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh that’s right, this isn’t my family._
> 
>  
> 
> They both look at him, resting their heads together for a second. It’s a small stab through Peter’s chest, to be assembled around the table. To have Not-Tony and Pepper both looking at him like that.
> 
>  
> 
> _I want to go home. I want May._ He sounds like a child in his own mind. 
> 
>  
> 
> “Uh. If you guys could stop making heart eyes at me now, that’d be great.” Peter focuses on stabbing the fruit on his plate. 
> 
>  
> 
> “Right, sorry.”

It’s hard not to eavesdrop when you have enhanced senses. Peter really tries, and most days he succeeds in dulling the sounds to a low background blur. But occasionally, he’ll zoom in on something, and like that damn Baby Shark song, he’s unable to draw his attention away. Sometimes it’s a gurgling stomach or the whine of a phone charger. One time it was far too much information about a couple in his apartment’s private life. 

This morning he’s trying not to listen in on himself. Not-Tony’s watching some kind of live video relay of the apartment, and Peter’s hearing a constant split-second relay on his own activity. _Is he supervising me? Does he not trust me?_ Peter wonders, although it doesn’t even make sense. They left Morgan sleeping in his bed last night. He’s wearing Not-Tony’s sweats. He’s making breakfast in his kitchen. 

Peter offers Morgan a slice of banana while he hunts for egg cups. She bangs her heels against the modern counter top while contemplating the piles of food Peter has made. 

“I never seen anyone eat so much as you, except the very hungry caterpillar. And Mummy said if I ate as much as that caterpillar I’d get something called diabeetles.” She announces. 

“Well I’m part spider, not caterpillar.” Peter counters. “I’m not sure if Spiders can get diabeetles anyway. FRIDAY where are the eggcups?” 

“FRIDAY, where are the eggcups?” overlaps his question from down the hall. 

_Ugh. It’s kind of creepy._

“There are no eggcups Peter.” 

“I think I would like you better if you were a caterpillar.” Morgan says, stealing more banana. 

“Rude.” Peter says to her as he finds some shot glasses. 

He can’t suppress his glow of self-satisfaction as the eggs fit perfectly in them. 

_I really am a genius._

“You’re a nice spider, I guess, but if you were a caterpillar now you could be a butterfly later.” 

He hoists her off the bench and over to the table, ignoring the echoes of her giggles, feeling like Not-Tony’s version of the baby monitor protocol is going at tad overboard. 

Morgan barely makes it through a single slice of toast before she’s sighing heavily, leaning her head against her hands and looking with exaggerated sadness at his smoothie. The video feed clicks off finally when Pepper’s soft voice overlaps Not-Tony’s. Peter’s missed his highly calibrated senses, but he forgot how invasive they were in settings like this. 

Peter grabs some more shot glasses and siphons off some of his smoothie into them, lining them up in front of Morgan. She claps at the tiny cups of bright purple milk. 

“A little early for shots isn’t it?” Not-Tony asks, hovering in the doorway. 

Peter rolls his eyes. 

“Uhoh Mo, fun police are here.” 

Not-Tony hesitates before coming over. For a moment it seems like Not-Tony is intruding on Peter and Morgan’s space, instead of Peter intruding on theirs. 

“Coffee’s on,” Peter tells him, “and there’s enough breakfast for everyone.” 

Pepper joins them then, leaning into Not-Tony, and the scene relaxes. 

“Peter made breakfast Honey.” Not-Tony tells Pepper. 

“Peter made breakfast?” She sounds touched, as if Peter’s never made breakfast before. 

_Oh that’s right, this isn’t my family._

They both look at him, resting their heads together for a second. It’s a small stab through Peter’s chest, to be assembled around the table. To have Not-Tony and Pepper both looking at him like that. 

_I want to go home. I want May._ He sounds like a child in his own mind. 

“Uh. If you guys could stop making heart eyes at me now, that’d be great.” Peter focuses on stabbing the fruit on his plate. 

“Right, sorry.” 

They busy themselves grabbing plates and coffee. Morgan, thankfully, is not interested in anyone’s awkwardness. Peter hides himself beside her like a mini-vibrainium shield, tucking up his feet and pulling her onto his lap. She’s trying to tell him about her friend’s cat while simultaneously licking the smoothie off the inside walls of the shot glasses. It’s messy and distracting. Not-Tony comes up beside him, balancing a full plate in one hand. 

“It looks great.” Not-Tony tucks Peter into his side with one arm. “Thanks Pete.” 

He presses a kiss onto Peter’s head. 

It’s so casual. 

It punches through Peter's chest like a Chitauri blaster. 

“What are you doing?” Peter blurts out. 

Not-Tony takes a step back, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. 

Morgan burps in Peter’s ear. 

Peter drops the fork onto his plate. It’s not really a fork anymore, just a mangled piece of metal that used to have form. 

He jumps to his feet, pushing back his chair too fast. Morgan drops her glass, grabbing around his neck, but she’s not frightened. She reaches down to pick up the fork Peter destroyed. 

Peter stares at Not-Tony, feeling his breath rush like a furnace in his chest. 

Not-Tony stares back, looking like he just made a mistake. 

“Do mine next.” Morgan demands, poking him with the fork. 

The pinprick disrupts Peter’s whirling mind and he puts her into his seat, gently pushing his chair back into the table. 

“Excuse me.” 

He locks himself in the first room he comes across, gasping like he’s just swung from Tribeca to Harlem at full speed. It’s a bathroom, and he turns on the tap to cover the sound of furious whispering coming from the kitchen. He sinks to the floor. 

_What in fresh heck was that?_

He’d just been dad smooched by Not-Tony Stark. 

Cue existential crisis. 

Peter had been given a kiss on the head by Tony Stark exactly once, on a battlefield covered in rubble and fire, immediately following an emotional hug and immediately preceding a stern warning. _“Keep yourself alive Pete, or I’ll resurrect you again so May and I can take turns playing ABBA hits through Karen. You will listen to nothing but dancing queen from here to eternity.”_ The threat had been completely sincere and oddly specific. 

Peter still feels that kiss stamped against his left temple at unexpected times. Like a smack to the side of the head when things were quiet. Like a seal of approval. 

Peter earned that kiss. 

He earned it by choosing to stick up for the little guy, by forgoing his homework for Germany, by training and learning and getting on a spaceship and facing down a Titan. 

And Not-Tony’s dropping them on whoever’s head? He doesn’t even know Peter. 

He knows he’s cycling, the therapist with her soft voice and keen eyes had told him this would happen. Grief, bargaining, denial, acceptance, anger. So much trauma to unravel. So many threads to pull. Peter rolls through them, bounces from one to the other, accepts then rejects. 

It doesn't help that Peter doesn’t understand who he was to Tony. 

At home, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, May, Strange, everyone that mattered, talked about it like Peter and Tony had some kind of cosmic connection. Like Tony harnessed the powers of space and time for Peter and no one else. They made it sound like Peter was so vital to Tony’s life. Like Tony loved Peter so desperately. Like Tony thought Peter was his son. 

What if they misunderstood? 

What if it was all just guilt? 

He knows what happens when someone dies in your arms and you thought you should have saved them. They become immortalised in the most unrealistic ways. Peter only remembers the good things about Uncle Ben, like his amazing pep talks, or how he always put extra syrup on Peter’s waffles. He never thinks about the times Uncle Ben forgot to pick him up from school or how much noise he made leaving the house for work at 4:30 every morning. 

Ben had died in Peter’s arms, but he’d done so bravely, reassuring Peter everything would be okay. And Peter still bled his guilt for Uncle Ben’s death into the Queens sidewalk every night on patrol. 

Peter had died in Tony’s arms, but he’d done so frightened, more like a child than a hero, terrified and begging. Peter had realised what he’d done to Tony a split second before he’d faded. And Tony had bled his guilt for Peter’s death into the Infinity stones, and they had taken his life. 

And all Peter has left is a phantom kiss on his left temple from one Tony, and now a phantom kiss on the right from another. It makes him feel unbalanced. 

* * *

He watches the water spray from the tap. He lists off elements by their categories. Then eventually, once his hands have stopped trembling, Peter leaves the bathroom, because he’s a grown up. And he’s still really hungry. He sets his shoulders and gets ready to fake it. 

It’s not a new feeling, he fakes stuff a lot. At school when he pretends to hesitate before shooting off the correct answers, even though he taught himself the AP curriculum last year. On patrol, when he swings down from a roof and tells someone he’ll handle it from behind his mask. At home, when he tells Aunt May he’s okay but he spent the night crumbling to pieces every time he closed his eyes to sleep. 

Faking all the time. 

On the other hand, he remembers the strong tilt of MJ’s chin as she’d stared him down, just days after their return from the dusting. She’d pulled her backpack higher on her shoulder, and he could see her fingers trembling as she looked at the front doors of the school. 

“Fake it ‘til you make it, right Parker?” 

He’d followed her into the school, feeling once again like there was something more to MJ than he could see on the impassive smoothness of her skin, and wanting to know what that was. 

So fake it ‘til you make it he does. He manages a small smile for Not-Tony, who looks up expectantly from the empty kitchen table. 

“I’m sorry.” Not-Tony leads with an apology. 

“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t attack from my right flank again.” Peter tries to make it a joke as he slides into the seat across from him. 

He pulls his plate over, tucking back into his breakfast. The other dishes have been cleared and Peter wonders how long he’d been in the bathroom for. Not-Tony frowns, evaluates him. Peter can practically see the differentials running behind Not-Tony’s eyes. 

“I’ll stay out of your personal space.” He says finally. 

_No._

“Appreciate it.” Peter mumbles around his cold toast. 

They sit in silence, well, silence for Not-Tony. Peter can hear Morgan’s excited chatter from down the hall. 

“You know I get panic attacks too.” Not-Tony says, spinning his coffee cup in his hands. 

Peter pauses, toast half raised to his mouth. 

“I heard you reciting the periodic table again.” Not-Tony says. 

Alright, maybe Peter isn’t the only one with super hearing. 

“Started after my capture in Ten Rings. Got much worse after the Chitauri invasion.” Not-Tony continues. 

Peter chews slowly. He and Tony had never talked specifically about things like this, aside from Tony telling him mental health was important and signing him up with his therapist after the events of Homecoming. Peter had barely needed it then. He swallows his food. Considers his next words carefully. 

“I’ve got PTSD. I, overreact sometimes.” 

Not-Tony nods, like he’d already expected that. Then he just waits, like it doesn’t matter if Peter keeps talking or not, but he’ll just be there anyway. Peter finds that he wants to talk. 

“Space, the fight on Titan, dying, the Battle of Earth. It was all so fast for me. I had to kill things. I’ve never killed anything before.” 

“Christ. You’re too young for all this.” Not-Tony mumbles. 

“Trust me, I know that now.” Peter pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been so much better lately. But now I’m in a new universe. And you’re, here. Walking around, playing with your kid. I’ve got, I've got a lot of trauma centred around Tony.” 

Peter peeks one eye open, checks how Not-Tony is taking this. He looks calm, but he’s fiddling with his watch around his left wrist, the dead give-away he’s not. 

Which makes it a perfect time to be saved by Pepper. 

Or handled by Pepper. Whichever way is better to describe the efficient way Pepper starts organising everyone around her. She breezes in, handing Peter a bag of what she calls essentials and distractions, full of nerdy t-shirts and jeans all in his size. He’s admiring the AC/GT one, while Pepper pulls a sweater over Morgan’s head and explains they’re going to the lake house. 

“What?” Peter’s head whips up. “I can’t go to the lake house. I need to go home.” 

“We can’t establish an dimensional portal here in the Tower, it’s unsafe. We'll open one in the paddock up there.” Not-Tony says. 

Peter frowns. “What about the compound?” 

“I’m not an Avenger anymore. And I don’t want you on Fury or anyone else’s radar.” Not-Tony explains. 

“The Sanctum then. As soon as Strange gets the batteries charged I can go.” 

Not-Tony and Pepper exchange glances from across the room. 

“Peter it’s been a very stressful week.” Pepper takes over. “I think we would all benefit from a calmer environment while we wait.” 

“You’ve done more than enough for me. I can go to the Sanctum by myself.” Peter frowns into the bag of clothes and wonders when she had time to pick them up. “Strange doesn’t hate me.” 

“No.” Not-Tony says firmly. “I want to supervise the portal devices.” 

“The portal devices I pretty much built. I know how they work.” 

Pepper whispers something to Morgan while Peter argues with Not-Tony about who will set up the devices. He feels a tugging on his shirt, then a hand slipping into his own. 

“Peter don’t you want to come to the lake house with me? We could go frog hunting.” Morgan pouts her bottom lip, staring up at him with small hopeful eyes. 

Peter looks back up at the adults facing him. They’re already circling in on his defeat. 

“Just so you both know, I am fully aware this is manipulation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday!
> 
> So I actually plotted this story out. The chapter count might change by a few, I'm trying to keep most chapters about the same length and some tend to blow out a little, but we have clear direction! And updates should be more consistent, although I'm moving countries, so there may be some disruption to regularly planned programming. 
> 
> As usual, hit me up in the comments or on tumblr @reachingforaspark, thanks to everyone who has already done so!


	15. Manhattan Traffic, NY, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something else spikey pokes at the edge of Peter’s brain.
> 
> “If you try to shank your broth- our guest again, I’m confiscating it, you juvenile delinquent.” 
> 
> _Squid fork. Squidward. Ebony Maw. The Black Order. Thanos._
> 
> Peter’s brain plays word association with stunning speed. He claps his hands over Morgan’s ears, ignoring her squeaks. 
> 
> “Have you had anything come down from space since the Chitauri?” Peter demands.

_You know you’re in an alternate dimension when…_ Peter breathes to himself as he stares at the shiny black and silver monstrosity before him. 

He blinks twice, unsure if what he’s looking at is real or an illusion. 

Morgan barrels past him, arms full of soft toys and blankets. Happy follows close behind her, laden down with bags. He nudges open the rear door and throws the luggage in. It’s not until the trunk slams shut that Peter jumps and lets out a slightly hysterical giggle. 

It’s real. 

Tony Stark owns a minivan. 

It might be the sleekest, most expensive looking minivan Peter’s ever seen, but it’s still a minivan. 

Peter slides into the black leather seats buckling himself in beside Morgan’s car seat. She waves at him, like they haven’t spent the entire morning so far together. The inside of the van is slick, more like a limousine than anything else, with a small console fridge and deeply tinted windows. A happy sigh escapes Peter as he settles back into the plush seats. This is the way to road trip. 

“I think this is the first thing I own that’s impressed you.” Not-Tony says from his seat across from Peter. 

Peter has no idea why Not-Tony’s elected to travel in the back, on the bench seat facing them while Pepper’s in the front with Happy, already tapping away on her laptop. 

“We don’t have one of these at, uh, my world? Home?” Peter gestures around. “I guess I’ve never travelled like this.” 

“In a minivan?” 

“Yeah, but mostly like, all of us together.” Peter says. 

Not-Tony’s eyes dim again. Peter swears like he’s navigated battlefields more easily than conversations with Not-Tony. He looks out the window as they pull out into the mid morning Manhattan traffic, immediately swallowed into the stream of traffic. 

Peter rests his head against the cool glass. Even though he can hear the honking, feel the vibrations of the heaving city through the window against his forehead, he feels separated from it. The luxury van feels like a cushion of unreality as they float alongside cabs and sedans, together but detached. Just like how Peter feels with the Stark’s. The same but different. 

This version of them seemed willing to slip him into their family, emotional hiccups and all. Peter feels like it’s sweeping him along, and he’s barely fighting it. Pepper and Morgan are somehow still just Pepper and Morgan. No confusion there. But Not-Tony… Not-Tony seemed to be searching for something with Peter, and Peter can’t work out what it is. Is he looking for proof? Validation for the choices that Tony had made? 

Peter would like those things too. 

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, grateful he’s at least out of his stealth suit for the moment. It may be heavily armoured but the thing was tight and poorly ventilated. Peter was sure he’d develop a rash if he had to wear it for one more day. 

He feels a prick in the back of his neck. 

He looks around. In the front seat, Pepper clicks away on her laptop, her words per minute significantly reduced by the furtive glances she shoots into the rear-view mirror. Not-Tony is also trying to be subtle, phone tilting in his hand as he pretends to be squinting at it through his blue sunglasses. The only adult who’s acting mostly normal is Happy, swearing under his breath and shooting Peter the occasional suspicious glance. Nothing screams danger to him. 

The pinprick again, against his arm. 

“Morgan stop!” Not-Tony says, looking up. “We don’t, we don’t puncture people in this family. Where were you even keeping that? Happy, what happened to security? We’ve got someone smuggling weapons into the van.” 

Peter looks down. She’s poking him with a fork. His Spidey-sense is fine. 

“You will be getting a pat down every time you leave the building, you little kleptomaniac. Jesus Christ.” Not-Tony lectures her, taking away the fork. 

“I wanna see the trick again.” 

Not-Tony hands Peter the fork, rolling his eyes. “Do you mind?” 

“Alright. But you’re just encouraging it. This is the beginning of the end for your cutlery.” 

Peter concentrates on the silverware in his hands, remembering a bracelet he had bought Aunt May from a flea market when he was twelve. Peter wonders if Aunt May here still wears it. He pinches the prongs of the fork and curls them out to the side, squashing the pointy edges flat. He rolls the handle of the fork into a spiral, adjusting it for small wrists. 

“There you go.” He slips the fork bangle onto her wrist. 

He leans back in his seat as Morgan waves her arm around. 

“Dad look! Look Dad. It’s curly now. Look! Like a squid. But it’s a fork. I’m gonna call it squid fork.” 

_Squid. Squid fork._

Something else spikey pokes at the edge of Peter’s brain. 

“If you try to shank your broth- our guest again, I’m confiscating it and sending you to juvie.” 

_Squid fork. Squidward. Ebony Maw. The Black Order. Thanos._

Peter’s brain plays word association with stunning speed. He claps his hands over Morgan’s ears, ignoring her squeaks. 

“Have you had anything come down from space since the Chitauri?” Peter demands. 

Not-Tony runs with the fast change of direction, despite his obvious discomfort at the mention of the invasion. “Earth remains alien free since 2012.” 

“But you’ve got Vision here? With the-” Peter taps his forehead, then clamps his hands back down over Morgan’s ears. 

Not-Tony confirms. 

“And Strange has the eye of Agamotto, I’ve seen him wearing it.” Peter muses, his brain already spinning possibilities. 

Thanos could be dead in this universe, killed by one of his traumatised children or when he tried to take on the Asgardians. Or he could be alive. And just running a little late in his agenda. And Earth still has two stones. 

This may not be his world, this may not be his family, but Peter will be damned if he lets it sit unprepared for a threat like that. He won’t let them force Not-Tony into the same position his Tony had been in. 

“Can I have a laptop or something please?” 

He doesn’t have a magic solution or nuclear deterrent for Thanos, but he does have knowledge. And if anyone can turn knowledge into power, it’s Tony Stark. But Peter needs to know what he gives Not-Tony will be safe. 

He takes a tablet off Not-Tony, balancing it in his lap and activating the holographic keyboard. He rearranges it to the familiar QWERTY style and disconnects the tablet from the network, disabling FRIDAY’s supervision functions from the device. Peter tilts his seat back a little, kicking off his shoes and sitting cross legged on the seat. 

He starts building up the security packet he and Ned developed for situations where they wanted to keep things separate from FRIDAY, the code flowing from his fingers with precision. He’s tilting into the data, his brain submerging into the language, crossing into symbols. 

Not-Tony interrupts him with a loudly cleared throat. 

“If you’re building a program, FRIDAY can do it for you.” Not-Tony says. 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter says, distracted by the code. “But her encryption software tends to work in derivatives from her own programming, and there’s too many similarities if she’s breached. I want something original. More secure.” 

“You’re talking to the guy who breached the Pentagon at fourteen. I know how to make a system that’s pretty secure.” 

Peter tries to remember the next sequence of the algorithm. “Check your ego, Mister Stark.” _Had they built this section as the first defense layer or the second?_ “Remember you’re talking to the kid who breached your system at fifteen.” He amends the credit. “Well, me and Ned Leeds. Does that make us smarter than you?” 

_Why am I so bad at coding?_ He deletes an incorrect scroll of text and rewrites it with more care this time. 

“You hacked FRIDAY?” 

Peter frowns at the continued disruptions. “You were cramping my twipping style Tony. And before you bring up that ferry I exploded one more time, I will tell May about that time you let me joyride in the Mark -” Peter brackets off the first packet and starts on the second, pulling across the sections he wants to duplicate for the encryption. “47 and you didn’t lock the chest plate in, and I fell out of the suit over Staten Island. Something you assured me was basically impossible. She will not find it as funny as you did.” 

Morgan’s in on bugging him now too, leaning over to add random colons to his program. He grabs her hand away and gives it a kiss, deleting her unwelcome additions. “Mo, Mega-byte, baby genius, I promise I’ll teach you to code when you’re a bit older. But I gotta concentrate now.” 

Peter drops back into the data, the sounds around him fading as he continues to build the key. His brain hums with lines of code in the tune of the Imperial death march. Another, smaller part of his brain is running through everything he knows about the events of Infinity War that Tony could use, for later encryption. He’s just rounding off the last bracket when the van start to slow down, pulling into a nearly empty gas station. 

He blinks and rubs his eyes, seeing letters and numbers dance on his eyelids when he does. He’ll write up the information and instructions for Not-Tony later, before he goes home. He’s completely done with screens for the moment. Morgan snores in the seat beside him. 

“Ugh.” Peter stumbles out of the van as soon as it stops, cracking his neck. The bright sun stings his eyes and his brain feels spacey, disconnected. 

“You back with us?” Not-Tony asks, coming to stand beside Peter at the edge of the parking lot. He offers Peter his sunglasses. 

Peter declines, then tucks the front of his shirt into his jeans and kicks up into a handstand, finding the precise counterpoint where his body will hold itself suspended on its own. 

“Just clearing my head.” He explains to the now upside down Not-Tony. “I hate coding so much. It’s like my technological kryptonite.” 

“You just built encryption software in,” Not-Tony checks his watch, “an hour ten. That’s pretty damn impressive.” 

“Thanks, but it’s mostly just working from memory.” Peter says, bouncing on his hands a little, relishing the feeling coming back into his tired fingers. He doesn’t have to do this upside down, but he likes to, likes looking at the world a different way. 

He spots Happy walking back to the car, arms laden with chips and gummy bears. Peter rolls into a walkover, popping right side up again and shaking out his wrists. 

“Ned Leeds works in game design now.” Not-Tony tells him as they walk back to the car. 

“How do you know about Ned?” 

“You mentioned him.” Not-Tony shoves his hands down in his pockets. 

“Did I? Oh, well, you should poach him. Ned's good people.” A thought occurs to Peter and he cringes. “Did I sing as well?” 

“Little bit.” 

“Ugh did I mention I hate coding?” 

“What’s the program for?” Not-Tony asks. 

“Can I explain it to you later?” Peter hops into the van, thanking Happy for the pile of food dumped on his seat. “My blood sugar is too low to have this conversation right now.” 

He smashes down a sandwich as they pull back onto the highway. He watches the trees fly by, so green, as he opens a pack of gummy worms and sips on his juice box. “Should we wake Morgan? She’s missing out.” 

“She’s alright for now. How much do you need to eat Peter? For future reference.” Pepper asks from the front seat. 

He’s not sure he’ll be around much longer for it to make a difference, but he keeps that to himself. She’s just being considerate. 

“When I’m not busy I eat about a third over an average teenage boy’s requirements, but when I’m patrolling or stressed I eat about double that. When I’m healing it can be up to four times, depends on the type of trauma. The time I got shot we just ended up shoving a feeding tube down my nose for a day on top of diet and IV support. That was, gross. But I healed so fast I could actually feel my tendons knitting. Outta bed the next day. It was fascinating.” 

All three adults just stare at him for a moment, Happy’s eyes flicking back and forth in the rear view mirror between him and the road. 

“And disturbing.” Peter adds. “Obviously. Because you are all looking very disturbed right now.” 

They continue staring at him. 

“That’s a lot of food Peter.” Pepper says finally. “I feel like we’ve been starving you.” 

“You’re fine. I can go without for a while in the summer.” He reassures her. 

“And in the winter?” Not-Tony asks. 

“Food scarcity might make me hibernate.” He says, deadpan. “We don’t know for sure.” 

“How did you end up so freaky?” Happy asks abruptly. 

“Cross species genetic manipulation. Very different from how they made Captain America. He was enhanced metabolically.” Peter shrugs, “I got bitten by a radioactive spider, and as far as I can tell as the venom spread it rewrote my genetic code the same way a cancer might. Like a fast acting, violent cancer.” 

Peter laughs a little, remembering waking up in an intensive care unit to an incredibly confused medical team. His treatment had been so expensive though, it took May months of overtime to pay it off. 

“They thought I had Ebola at one point, then I just woke up the next day, totally fine and blood back where it should be. My official diagnosis was an idiopathic autoimmune dysfunction of unknown origin. Sometimes I can’t believe it didn’t kill me. My powers took a little while to kick in after that.” 

“It was an accident? The bite?” Not-Tony looks unwell. 

He’s holding a hand against his chest. Peter twists the lid off a bottle of water, handing it to him, listening in concern to his lungs and heart falling slightly out of sync with each other. 

“I mean, it was an accident on my part? But Oscorp definitely had plans for that spider, so it was intentional on their part at least for a bit. And now I see that all the adults in the van look thoroughly upset.” 

He leans back across to Not-Tony, tapping his knee. 

“Guys, I’m fine, seriously, healthy spider-kid here.” 

_Except not in this world. Dead spider-kid here._ Peter remembers, and dismisses. _One problem at a time Peter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad about how long y'all waited for the last chapter, so two updates in a week! Happy FRIDAY! 
> 
> Also, this chapter and the next were supposed to be condensed into one, there was stuff I could have cut, but I didn't want to, you can't make me, so more chapters for us all. 
> 
> Also, I don't know how writing encryption software works. I'm sure that's obvious. 
> 
> Enjoy the road trip all.  
> Thanks for reading and I love all your comments!


	16. The Van, Taconic State Parkway, NY, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Catching flies Parker?” Happy quips from the front seat. 
> 
> “That’s what the webs are for Happy.” Peter mimes shooting dual webs at the front windscreen, making little psshhtt noises. 
> 
> “Holy crap, are you telling me you actually eat flies?” Happy asks him, sounding disturbed. 
> 
> “Flies contain twice the protein per hundred grams as beef, plus, it’s a sustainability issue.” Peter deadpans as Pepper and Tony exchange alarmed glances. “Millions of cultures eat insects, I just happen to be able to catch my own.”
> 
> “What did I buy all those snacks for?” Happy splutters, “I could’ve just wound down the window. Drive through style.”

Conversation in the van lapses, and Peter taps his hand anxiously against his thigh. He doesn’t remember exactly where the Lake house is, his memories of the day are muddled, but he knows they’re getting close by the unsettled feeling that is slowing rolling up into his gut. 

All the adults in the van are looking carefully neutral. He fiddles with Morgan’s tablet. If he poked her awake it would make a great distraction. He opens his mouth to ask about the model of tablet in his hand, then closes it again, swallowing down his words. The tech is years ahead of what they have at home, but the differences just make him think of why that is. He considers asking Pepper what she’s working on, but decides against it, it might seem invasive. 

“Catching flies Parker?” Happy quips from the front seat. 

“That’s what the webs are for Happy.” Peter mimes shooting dual webs at the front windscreen, making little psshhtt noises. 

“Holy crap, are you telling me you actually eat flies?” Happy asks him, sounding disturbed. 

“Flies contain twice the protein per hundred grams as beef, plus, it’s a sustainability issue.” Peter deadpans as Pepper and Tony exchange alarmed glances. “Millions of cultures eat insects, I just happen to be able to catch my own.” 

“What did I buy all those snacks for?” Happy splutters, “I could’ve just wound down the window. Drive through style.” 

Peter laughs, almost unexpectedly, thrilled by how familiar Happy’s tone sounds. 

“That’s gross you two. Seriously gross.” Pepper sniffs from the front seat. 

“Aunt May’s been getting into sustainability, cooking with cricket flour, that kind of thing. You ate banana bread made from it Happy.” Peter jabs a finger at him. “And you, he, said he liked it, the traitor. Now she makes it all the time.” 

Everyone ignores Peter’s mistaken attribution of blame, so Peter does too. Bickering with Happy keeps down the creeping anxiety of the miles ticking by. 

“Speaking of May,” Pepper clears her throat, “We looked her up-” 

Not-Tony interrupts. “Why don’t we do that a bit later Pepper.” 

“No, I’d like to know.” Peter replies, hesitation seizing him around the shoulders. Not-May must be so lonely. “I thought I would see her, yesterday, just like through the window or whatever. But she wasn’t there anymore.” 

“She looks like she’s doing really well.” Pepper says, leaning back through the partition to hand her phone over to Peter. 

Open is a feature article from earlier in the year, about a youth charity working to reduce poverty and gun related crime violence in New York. A charity started by May Parker. Peter scrolls, speed reading through the text until he gets to the first picture. It’s Aunt May, speaking at a school. It spins Peter out. 

“She looks so different.” Peter whispers. 

Her hair is different, shorter and choppy, and her arms are covered in tattoos. She almost looks punk. But she also looks strong and happy. 

“Oh my god that’s so cool. She always said she could never get one tattoo because then she’d never stop.” 

Peter reads the article again with incredible pride at this May’s resilience. It's almost as if Aunt May is looking out for Queens when Spider-Man couldn’t anymore, the same way his May had started a housing charity during the Snap years. He hopes someone is around to give this May a hug. Peter rubs at his nose. 

“I can’t imagine how she must feel, having lost them both. Ugh. But you can’t keep her down.” A bout of homesickness all but clobbers him in the gut. “My May must be on a rampage. I’ve been gone almost four days now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already tracked down Fury and Hill herself. Between her and Pepper-” 

Peter shakes his head, trying to scatter the longing with the movement. 

“It’s a shame you don’t know May.” Peter smiles up at Pepper to distract himself. “You two are absolutely unstoppable. You’re like, best friends now.” 

Pepper raises an eyebrow. 

“You were having trouble with Carlton, in finance.” 

“Condescending asshat, I know him.” Pepper nods. 

“That’s the one. Pepper and May went to a business dinner with him to discuss donations to May’s charity. Two am the next morning Happy drags them both back into the apartment, Pepper’s holding an empty bottle of wine and a funnel, and May’s missing a shoe and cackling like the wicked witch of the west.” 

Peter grins, remembering the scene. 

“Wait, you’ve got to see this video.” He digs a web shooter out from his bag, pulling open his personal files. He opens the holodisplay, adjusting the quality so it will be visible to Pepper in the front seat. 

The clip starts in the narrow hallway of their new apartment. The camera occasionally drops down to show Morgan, dancing with excitement as she balances a tray of tea, toast and aspirin. Peter quietly opens the door, slipping the camera in to show a dark room, Pepper laying on top of the covers like she just collapsed in the bed, and another lump bundled under a quilt. 

“Okay Mo, just like you practiced. Really loud.” Peter whispers, taking the tray from her tilting hands. He raps a distinctive jaunty knock on the door. Pepper twitches, then groans. 

“I swear to god children, if you do what I think you’re about to do…” She points one arm towards them. 

Morgan clears her throat. 

“Do you wanna build a snowman?” She warbles, very loudly. 

The second figure bolts upright, throwing back the quilt. May’s hair stands up like a bird nest, haloed by the light seeping in from the curtains. 

“Oh my god.” May groans, grabbing at her forehead and flopping back on the bed. 

Pepper pulls a pillow over her head as Morgan jumps up, continuing her song. 

“Demon child. Not you Morgie, we love you. You’re beautiful gorgeous, just sing a little softer please. It’s the other one who’s the jerk. It’s not his fault, he was bitten by a spiteful spider. No, Peter, come back here and get your sister. We’re sleeping. The hardworking, ass kicking business mums are sleeping. Peter!” 

“I can’t! May, I can’t! School day, I gotta get to class.” Peter cackles with laughter from behind the camera. He zooms in on Morgan gleefully elbowing and crawling over the hungover women. “Aspirin’s on the breakfast tray! Happy says he’ll be up at nine for you Pepper, you’ve got that delegate thing. Bye! Love you, even if you are terrible role models!” Peter closes the video, tucking his web shooters away, still laughing. 

“Anyway. That’s the last I heard of Carlton, and no one will tell me what the funnel was for.” 

“She seems like a riot.” Not-Tony says. 

“She really is. Tony told me he considered reassigning War Machine to her after their first meeting.” 

Not-Tony smiles then, the lines deepening around the edges of his eyes as though he’s trying to imagine the scene. Peter realises he likes Not-Tony like this, relaxed, making jokes. He wonders if Tony was like this, at home with his family, while Peter was gone. But Peter knows it wouldn’t be true. His Tony might have been softer, but he was burdened. 

“I need to get home.” Peter sighs. 

“Yeah.” Not-Tony says. “I think- I think you do.” 

Peter can’t read the hesitation in his voice, the stutter in his tone. 

“Okay, so, we need to discuss what’s your play for Beck when you get there.” Not-Tony asks, the moment gone with the flick of his wrists as though he’s straightening his jacket. 

“Easy.” Peter says. “I’m going to kick his ass.” 

Happy snorts from the front seat. 

“That’s not a plan.” The bodyguard says. 

“Who normally helps you out with strategy?” Pepper asks before the two can start arguing. 

Peter’s eyes instinctively flit towards Not-Tony before he answers. 

“I’ve never taken on something this size before.” Peter admits. 

“What about the Avengers?” 

“They’re in handover at the moment so no-one’s really available? I’ve got my Battle Mum’s but I don’t know who I’d call, maybe Valkyrie but she’s ruling a country now. And Carol’s in space. Daredevil’s local but he’s not a chatty dude. Captain America said I could call him, but I saw he saved my number in his phone as that little asshole so it’s kind of awkward.” 

“If you’re little asshole I’d hate to know what I am.” Not-Tony mutters. 

“What’s an asshole?” Moran pipes up from beside him. 

_Of course she wakes up now._

“Oh shit.” Not-Tony says as Pepper twists back around to glare at them both. Not-Tony raises his hands and points at Peter. 

“I am so sorry Pepper, in my world Happy already taught her that word.” Peter says hurriedly. 

“I would never use –“ Happy starts to say, then cuts himself off with a honk of the horn. “It’s not a merge lane you shitaahrfre!” He strangles out the last word, kind of proving Peter’s point for him. 

Peter pulls an exaggerated innocent face and points at the back of Happy’s head. 

“You should have seen the few times he tried to teach me to drive.” Peter says. “I didn’t know road rage was part of the curriculum.” 

“I was teaching you to drive?” Happy asks. 

“No, because the definition of teaching and what you did are very two different things. We tried it a few times, you called it streamlining the asset management.” 

“Asset management?” Happy raises an eyebrow. 

Peter points to himself. “Asset.” 

He points to Happy. “Manager.” 

“I can’t imagine you being an asset to anything.” Happy grumbles. 

“What exactly does that entail?” Not-Tony asks simultaneously. 

Morgan’s kicking her heels against her booster seat, trying to follow along with the conversation. Peter automatically reaches over to grab one of her shoes, while Not-Tony reaches for the other one. She lets out a small squawk as she finds both of her feet held. 

“Happy’s my main man.” Peter says in response to Not-Tony’s question. 

“Don’t call me that.” Happy says over his shoulder. 

“Mister Ho-gan, with a plan.” Peter continues. 

“I don’t like that. Stop that.” 

“Driving the van.” 

Really, it’s too easy to wind him up. 

“Stop it.” 

“We stan.” 

“Oh for crying out loud.” Happy mutters. Peter grins. Not-Tony’s looking somewhere between fondness and exasperation at Peter. 

“Right. Um, my Happy monitors my patrols, picks me up from school for my internship, teaches me a bit of self defence and security stuff, mostly pretends he doesn’t like me but he always buys me ice cream. Plus, I know he’s been dating May on the down low for months. I’ve been extorting his guilt like crazy. So many extra toppings. So little time.” 

“Who’s May?” Morgan asks, wiggling her toes against her captors. 

“May’s like my Mum.” Peter explains, the simplest way he can think of for a four year old. 

Morgan’s brow furrows and her wiggling feet stop. 

“So Happy drives you to school?” Morgan asks. 

Peter nods. 

“And he teaches you things? And he buys you food, and he keeps you safe and he loves your Mum-“ 

She claps her hands together. 

“So Happy is your Dad!” 

Morgan’s comment manages to somehow even kill the radio, the silence falls so quickly inside the minivan. 

“Morgan honey-“ Pepper starts. 

“Happy’s not-” Not-Tony says over her. 

Peter catches a glimpse of Happy’s stricken face in the rear-view mirror. He’s sweating. Peter clear his throat deliberately, cutting through the adults. 

“Well-” 

Happy lets out a high-pitched whine only dogs and Spider-men could hear. Peter can’t keep a straight face. He cracks up. 

“Oh my god.” He wheezes. “Can you imagine - Sorry, sorry.” 

Peter giggles as he wipes at his face. Happy looks about two seconds away from throwing himself straight out of the moving vehicle. Beside him, Morgan kicks her foot out of Not-Tony’s hand, twisting as she turns her face toward the window. 

“Don’t laugh!” She half yells, swiping Not-Tony’s hand away as he reaches across for her shoulder, pulling on his seat belt to give him some more reach. 

“Peter wasn’t laughing at you Morgan,” Pepper says soothingly. “He was laughing at Happy’s funny face.” 

“Well he shouldn’t. It’s mean.” Morgan wipes at her face. “He’s mean and I hate him!” 

It’s almost comical how concerned the adults in the car look at Morgan’s statement. Peter’s heard that particular sentiment before, because if there’s anything the four-year-old doesn’t like, it’s being treated like a four-year-old. He gestures for Not-Tony to back off. 

“I’m sorry for laughing Morgan.” Peter says. “You made a good guess.” 

She says nothing but her bottom lip trembles furiously. She kicks herself down in her booster seat. Peter waits it out. 

“I want Happy to be your Dad.” Morgan sniffles eventually. “Then you can stay in the Tower with us. And we’d be like, we’d be like-” 

“Family.” Not-Tony says so softly it’s almost inaudible to anyone but Peter. 

“Morgan,” Pepper says. “You know Peter has to go home soon. To his own family.” 

Morgan gives a little wail and kicks her feet some more. Peter doesn’t quite understand it. The Morgan in his universe insists on making everyone family too, gathering aunts and uncles and siblings like plushies around her. He’d attributed it growing up in what must feel like an unstable world, where absence was everywhere, and even when that was reversed Morgan still lost. Like she was shoring up a lattice of family from as many sources as possible. But maybe it was just Morgan. 

He tries to make eye contact with Not-Tony to judge how to proceed, but the man just looks conflicted, staring at some point between Peter and Morgan. 

_Thanks for nothing._

“It’s okay Mo. I can be your family too, even from far away.” Peter says, after the silence stretches on a little too long. 

She twists back towards him. Peter tries to focus on her, not the hole Not-Tony is burning into the side of his face now, or the rocketing heart rates of all adults in the car. 

_If you’re so damn concerned why don’t you take over?_ Peter thinks with irritation. He fiddles with the padded straps of Morgan’s booster seat, forcing her to sit up properly again. 

“You know, I’ve learnt that family isn’t so much about what your blood is or who got married to who.” Peter tells her. “It’s more about who’s got your back, and who loves you. Even if they can’t always be around.” 

Peter pokes Morgan’s chest and she giggles a little, squirming. “So your family can be whoever your heart tells you it is. Does that sound okay?” 

“Me, Dad, Mum, Happy, FRIDAY. And you!” 

_Okay Mo, just punch me in the throat next time thanks._ Peter shoves it down and keeps a joking smile on his face. 

“U? What about DUM-E? You, me, Dad, Pepper, Happy, May, Rhodey, FRIDAY, Karen, DUM-E, U, wow MoMo, what a long list this is, should we include that kid from daycare with the cat, or just their cat?” 

They’re interrupted by Happy turning into the start of the long gravel driveway of the lake house. 

Like lightning Morgan’s mood picks up, leaning out to look at the lake. Peter’s mood drops. His skin prickles. Not-Tony must see something in his face because he leans forwards, tapping Peter’s elbow. 

“You alright?” He asks with open concern. 

“Bad memories.” Peter manages to croak, trying to push thoughts of floating wreaths and suffocating black suits from his mind. He grips his arms about himself, digging his fingernails into his forearms, barely noticing as Not-Tony tracks his movements. 

They pull closer to the house and the hairs on Peter’s arms raise. He feels a zap along the back of his neck. 

This isn’t grief. 

“Happy don’t stop!” Peter blurts out, unbuckling his seat belt to lean over the front console, peering at the house. “Back up, back up!” 

Happy pushes Peter back and Not-Tony assists, grabbing him by the waist and hauling him into the back seat. Peter catches sight of a dark shadow in the main living room. He pushes Morgan’s head down between her knees, covering her. Not-Tony tells Happy to reverse, sounding far calmer than Peter feels. The van skins out for a second, gravel flicking up from the sides. Peter snaps his web shooters on one handed, craning his neck to look out the window. He looks for more shadows that shouldn’t be there, trying to work out which direction his instincts are screaming at him from. 

It’s the house. They all tell him to get the hell away from the house. 

“There’s someone in the house.” Peter explains as the van skids backwards down the driveway. 

“Threat?” Not-Tony asks, pulling an arc reactor from a unit in the centre console. 

“That or Gerald’s finally gone rouge.” Peter jokes. 

It’s weak, and the look on Not-Tony’s face tells him so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, 
> 
> Happy Tuesday all, or rather, unhappy Tuesday if the Sony/Marvel news can be believed. 
> 
> MY BABY?!?
> 
> Also, who's in the house? I'm sorry friends, the road trip is over, snap back to reality.
> 
> If you love Peter and Happy as much as I love Peter and Happy, you should read Starcrosslane's lovely "Told you he's a good kid" series here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1425610
> 
> And you can check out how I think Happy and May got together here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824349/chapters/46940527
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments ❤


	17. The Lake house, NY, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I told you to wait in the car.” Tony croaks. 
> 
>  
> 
> Peter waves a hand, irritably. “I wasn’t letting you go in here alone. But anyway. He’s-”
> 
>  
> 
> “Peter. I told you to wait in the car.” Tony finds his voice, stronger now. Aware of the near miss they just had and unable to even comprehend what Peter’s telling him now.
> 
>  
> 
> “And I didn’t. And now I’ve got bigger problems-”
> 
>  
> 
> “And what if Fury saw you? You think he would just let you go?” Tony demands. 
> 
>  
> 
> “But he didn’t. If you just listen to me for a second-” 
> 
>  
> 
> Peter holds his hands out between them, almost pleading.
> 
>  
> 
> “I told you to wait in the car Peter!” Tony yells, cutting him off.

Tony takes a deep breath, looking up the steps at the front door of the cabin. Looking at the strong wooden walls and dark wood that is supposed to be his family’s sanctuary. 

The lake house was a retreat. A space for quiet. A place of rest. 

A home. 

A place that has been violated, and he isn’t sure how yet. But he could make a damn good guess. Tony activates his wrist gauntlet, flexing his left hand within his pocket, keeping it hidden. Any shaking in that hand is too much of a tell. Tony takes another deep breath, rolling his jaw and forcing himself to relax. He takes all his grief and rage and shoves it deep, buries it below his sternum, sits it far down with his vulnerability. 

He brings out the shadow free, remorseless Tony, so shallow so that he can only reflect others perceptions of him, and show nothing of himself. He closes his eyes, pulls up the fake Tony Stark the media and his colleagues know. 

He walks up the steps and into his house. 

Nick Fury sits in a corner of the living room, lurking like a god damn cartoon villain. 

_He fucking knew._

The poison of it flood his mouth and he bites down hard, crushing it with his teeth then swallowing it back down. Tony wants to blast Fury in the face, pummel him into the dust, but that will show his hand. It’s Spy vs Spy at the moment with Natasha is out there looking. If Fury knows what Tony knows, anything more that ever existed of Peter’s SHIELD file will amount to crushed glass on a beach. 

“Fury. To what do I owe the displeasure?” Tony fires a gentler opening shot than the man deserves. 

“Stark. I don’t seem to have surprised you today.” Fury greets him. “You beat quite the retreat down the driveway.” 

Tony had deployed sentinel suits as soon as Peter had tipped him off, both currently tracking the van and its occupants, scanning for threats. He’s sure Fury saw those too. 

“I was expecting you at the Tower, honestly, so you’re getting slower. Or maybe you wanted to see the countryside, relax a little.” Tony flashes him a smile, all teeth and warning. 

“And what would you be expecting me for?” 

“Well, it’s time for my regular re-recruitment speech isn’t it? I assume you’ve come preloaded with the usual grovel. Tony- you’re the true powerhouse of the team, Tony-the Avengers means nothing without you, Tony- we need you back. Gotta say, you’ve found my kink Nicolas.” 

Tony comes further into the room, keeping a couch between Fury and himself. 

“Of course I wouldn’t happen to be visiting about your unauthorised access to SHIELD databases.” Fury says. 

“I’ve been picking up some unnatural energy readings through some of my equipment. Thought I’d see if SHIELD had anything to do with it. I remember those other times you screwed around with dangerous energy sources you didn’t understand...” Tony lets his voice trail off, reminding Fury of his mistakes. 

“Both Iron Man and Rescue have been sighted patrolling about the greater city area. You know that’s a violation of-“ 

“Me going out for an evening spin over the city with my missus doesn’t violate anything, Fury.” Tony rolls his eyes. “You know I had those registered as oversize drones within city limits. All my suit use conforms to that.” 

Tony doesn't want to get pulled into this feinting back and forth with Fury. He doesn't have time to get for it. He's on a clock and it's counting down, down to when Peter starts pushing to go home and Tony has to let him go. Tony grips his gauntlet into a tighter fist. 

“Whatever you say.” 

They face off in silence for a moment, Tony unwilling to give Fury any ground. 

“You know what I think Stark?” Fury says, shifting forwards in the chair. “I think you saw something you really shouldn’t have. I think that’s why you went to see Natasha, and I think that’s why Natasha is nowhere to be found at the moment.” 

“Maybe Nat just got sick of your cloak and daggers backstabbing bull. Maybe she figured out you value nothing and no one, and you’ll keep building bigger and better weapons until you bring the universe down on our head, screwing with things you don’t understand. Regardless, your employee retention issues are no longer my problem.” 

“You’ve always been an excellent liar, very skilled at the redirection. But we know you saw the Parker file. I’m here to work out how you found it in the first place.” 

Fury stands abruptly and looms, in a way might have been intimidated Tony once, before he had Morgan and now Peter. 

Before he was a father, and knew that his ferocity would have no boundaries as long as they needed him. 

“I sure as hell didn’t go looking for it. I was digging around for another spider, you know, the one you lost, the one that does that lethal leg lock thingy. Christ, but what a way to go.” Tony does his signature glance down his glasses at Fury, crosses the room and leans against the bookshelf. He folds his arms across his chest. “I wanted to send her a birthday card. I can never remember how to spell Romanoff, remind me is it ff or a v, those Slavic languages always tangle me up. Figured you’d have that on file. Imagine my surprise when you had two spider people on your database. And one of them was young. Very young. And very dead.” 

“Parker’s recruitment incident was a miscalculation.” 

_A miscalculation?_

Fury barely bats an eyelid describing the death of Tony’s son. Tony’s adrenaline overcomes him so quickly he tastes vomit. 

“You bet your fucking eyepatch it was. You never should have gone near a fourteen-year-old kid!” Tony hisses. 

“Age has no reference to utility. Luckily neither does life.” Fury says. 

Tony knows then that Fury can see him trembling. Can see the rage that threatens to shake him apart. If it weren’t for the bookshelf Tony isn’t even sure he’d still be standing. 

“You’re a sick fuck.” Tony grits out. 

“I don’t get personal satisfaction out of the loss of a potential asset like that Stark, I’m neither wasteful or callous.” 

An asset. Just like Peter had referred to himself as in the car. An asset, for management, for use, like a tool. 

_Fuck Nick Fury. And fuck Tony Stark._

“He wasn’t an asset, he was a child.” 

Fury eyes him up and down. That dead, calculating stare. 

“Fatherhood makes you soft, Stark. Emotional. It’s better you’re not with the Avengers anymore” Fury says coolly. 

Tony gets the feeling he’s almost enjoying the exchange. 

“Fury,” Tony growls. “Get the fuck out of my house. And if you ever come near my family again, I’ll blast you off the face of this planet.” 

The edges of Fury’s lips curl. 

“With one of your little drones? That’s right, we know all about your planetary defence system. You can’t send up a satellite of that size and not expect us to believe it’s for communications.” 

“Is that the royal we Fury?” Tony snaps. 

“Stay out of SHIELD business Stark.” Fury leaves through the front door with a flap of black leather, like a parting slap of a villain’s cape. 

Through the haze of his anger, Tony considers activating said planetary defence system, bringing a drone down from the heavens and just being done with Fury for good. 

Instead, he drops like a sack of bricks into an armchair. Something in that conversation pulls at Tony, stretches his skin and bubbles at his insides. It might be the all-consuming rage, but this rage tastes like something else. It tastes like rioting despair and grief. Tony can’t fathom the depth of it, it calls him like a hell gate, like a bottomless pit of black. 

But he can’t peer over the edge of it right now. He can’t, not while Peter’s here, lest he falls apart completely and miss a second. He just needs a second, to sit with it, before he can force it back down. 

“He’s got something.” Peter’s quiet voice breaks through Tony’s fugue. 

He’s sitting on the couch across from Tony, hand on his chin, looking thoughtful. He wears his armoured vest directly over top of his civilian clothes, the fabric of his green shirt wrinkled and caught up. 

Tony’s reminded of the time Rhodey took him to Laser tag, looking at the kids streaming past them in the arena, full of additives and preservatives and fun, screaming lines from movies they didn’t understand at each other. Tony has to double blink, because for a second Peter’s one of those kids, a ghost, skinny shouldered and freckled faced, braces and floppy hair. 

But those kids were only playing at war. 

Peter taps the side of his fist against the armrest and the moment is gone. And the Peter before him is not playing, his vest and tech worn for strategy, throat mic and earpiece in place, his armour donned hastily but properly. His set jaw holds a laser focus Tony’s only seen a glimpse of so far. 

_What is he doing in here? He’s supposed to be waiting in the car._

“He said- Age has no reference to utility. Luckily neither does life. Neither does life. That meant something.” Peter muses. “Fury, he’s super deliberate in what he says.” 

_Fury. He was just one room away from his kid._

Peter looks at his hands, turning them over. Tony watches them too. His pale, thin hands. A scar over his right knuckle. It looks like a soldering burn. Hands for making circuits, hands for writing code. 

“What use is he dead?” Peter wonders. 

He twists and flicks his wrists absently, in practiced moves that look like they’re for something else. Tony’s entranced. For saving people. For swinging. 

“Dead, I’m just a collection of proteins. Groupings of cells.” 

Hands for holding Morgan’s hands and making her jewellery. Tony’s devastated. 

“Cells. Oh shit. Not-Tony.” 

Those are hands that Tony should have held in his own. 

“Tony!” 

Tony looks up at Peter’s face, feeling himself come apart. 

“I think they’ve got his DNA.” Peter says earnestly, his eyes frantic. 

_Fuck._

“I told you to wait in the car.” Tony croaks. 

Peter waves a hand, irritably. “I wasn’t letting you go in here alone. But anyway. He’s-” 

“Peter. I told you to wait in the car.” Tony finds his voice, stronger now. Aware of the near miss they just had and unable to even comprehend what Peter’s telling him now. 

“And I didn’t. And now I’ve got bigger problems-” 

“And what if Fury saw you? You think he would just let you go?” Tony demands. 

“But he didn’t. If you just listen to me for a second-” 

Peter holds his hands out between them, almost pleading. 

“I told you to wait in the car Peter!” Tony yells, cutting him off. 

“Why are you mad at me right now?” Peter asks hotly. “I was looking out for you.” 

“You don’t look out for me; I look out for you. You do as you’re told.” Tony stands then, towering over Peter. 

_God. Peter had been in the house. Fury was right there._

“That’s not fair! He’s got my DNA! He’s trying to make super soldiers with it. No version of me would ever have agreed to that. I need to find his work and destroy it.” Peter says. 

They’re both standing now, face to face, and Peter’s almost his height. 

“Life’s not fair Peter! You’re staying the hell away from this. It’s too dangerous.” Tony’s seconds away from a meltdown, he can feel himself falling into it. 

“If it’s so dangerous, then you shouldn’t be near it either.” Peter protests. 

“I can handle myself Peter. I’m Iron Man.” Tony snaps. 

“I know you’re Iron Man. Shit! It’s burned into my brain. I think about it every time I look at Morgan, while I’m on patrol. When I’m trying to sleep. I’ll never god damn forget you’re Iron Man will I?” 

Peter steadies himself, takes a deep breath, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. Something about the gesture is so helpless and aggressive. 

“You’re not an Avenger anymore Tony. Stay out. Stay out of the suit. Your family doesn’t need it.” Peter says. 

“Kid, you are my fam-” Tony tries to tell him. 

“NO! Enough!” Peter slashes his hand in front of him, stabbing at the air. “I’m not playing pretend with this anymore. You don’t even know me. You owe me nothing.” 

And that hurts. That rips up Tony’s insides. He doesn’t know his son. His son is dead. He loves him so much. He reaches out, but Peter’s already turning away from him. 

“Okay. Okay. I’m going to contact Miss Romanoff, see what she knows.” Peter’s rubbing at his face now. “And Bucky, he’s got to know something. I think he’d raid SHIELD with me. He seems like he’d be down for that.” 

That name. It’s too much. Peter would rather go to the Winter Soldier, the man who already destroyed Tony’s family. 

_It’s too much. It’s too far._

He needs to fix this. 

“Stop it Peter!” Tony snaps. 

He knows he’s too harsh in his desperation, in his need to make Peter understand. He steps towards Peter, even as Peter backs away from him, stumbling a little. 

“You’re not doing this.” 

Peter steps back towards Tony, gearing up for a protest. They seesaw across the living room, 

“No! This is where you zip it.” Tony snaps. Peter flinches, hesitates. Looks at Tony with something like fear in his eyes. He can’t go near Barnes. He can’t go near Fury. 

Some part inside Tony breaks a little, to see Peter’s fear, _too much like Howard_ but he rides over in in a wave of despair. He has to make Peter understand. 

_There is no limit._

“I don’t care what kind of fucked up shit went down in your universe. You’re in my universe now, you’re my kid now, not his, and I’m telling you, there is no limit to what I will do for you. No. Limit. I will take on SHIELD, I will fuck with Fury, I will tear this god damn universe apart if I have to.” Tony says. 

“Don’t say that!” Peter yells, “You don’t get to say that! It’s crap.” 

And suddenly Peter’s on Tony’s level, visibly shivering with rage, stepping forward to meet him again. 

“I don’t need someone to tear the universe apart! I need someone to pick up the phone, I need someone to help me pick colleges, I need someone to tease me about my crushes. I need someone to sit with me in therapy.” 

_Christ. I know you do baby. I’m so sorry._

“I don’t need Iron Man. Morgan doesn’t need Iron Man. We need Tony Stark. And where are you? You’re everywhere. You’re nowhere. You went out in a blaze of glory and we have left is empty space and holographic wills.” 

_Holographic wills._

Every emotion drains from Tony in an instant. 

_Oh Pete._

“You’re not here anymore and I don’t know what to do.” Peter’s words are a confession, spilling out over top of one another. “I don’t know how to do it without you.” 

Peter scrubs his sleeve across his face, a rushed, angry movement. 

“Shit.” Peter whispers. “Shit.” 

Tony feels helpless. Useless. 

Peter turns on his heel and strides to the door, grabbing the handle and yanking on it. The door groans, then pops sideways off its hinges. Peter stares at the door in his hand, holding it aloft as if it weighs no more than paperback novel. 

“Damn it!” Peter mutters, bracing his free hand against the wood and pulling. 

With a rip the door splits in two. The halves cling to Peter’s splayed hands. “Damn it, god fucking damn it. Why now? Why now!” Peter releases a torrent of frustration as he shakes out his hands out, the wood sticking fast to his fingers. The pieces flutter helplessly in the air. 

Peter eyes the screen door, then the wooden attachments to his arms. 

Tony watches as the fight drain out of his kid. 

“Pete, where are you going?” Tony sighs. 

Peter looks at the ground, suddenly small and overwhelmed. Tony needs to hold his kid, but he doesn’t know how. 

“I'm going to the jetty, where I can stare angrily into the lake where we scattered Tony's ashes cos I'm in a mood. I’m- I’m in a mood. This sucks. This sucks so much.” 

Tony walks past him, resisting the urge to pull Peter in close and make promises he’ll never be able to keep. He gently pushes the screen door open and steps to the side. 

“Want me to come sit with you?” Tony asks softly. 

Peter’s shoulders drop. 

“Yeah okay. Thanks.” 

“You can bring your door.” Tony says, watching Peter awkwardly shuffle sideways through the doorframe. 

“Shut up Tony.” 

Tony pretends he hears an edge of acceptance in Peter’s voice. Even if he’s just fooling himself with it. The awe he feels at the strength of his son is overwhelming. 

“Just shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies!! 
> 
> Happy Sunday to all. This chapter is being posted from the 5th country this story has been written/posted in, so yay for that!  
> Damn Fury! Peter and Not-Tony fought! Stuff was said!  
> How did you like it? Let me know here or yell at me on Tumblr!


	18. In the tent, Hudson Valley, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Christ kid.” Not-Tony says. “Now I know why that baby monitor program was so intense. You’re slipperier than a pig covered in butter.”  
> “Living in the country has made you a hick.” Peter wrinkles his nose.  
> “Hey. I was having a heart attack out there. You can’t do that Pete. You can’t just disappear.” Not-Tony says, lowering himself onto a stool outside the tent.  
> Peter gives him an unimpressed look. Tony always sounds a bit like May when he gets like this.  
> “You could’ve fallen in the lake.” Not-Tony says.  
> But his eyes speak of more. Of different fears.

“Is this a spot that you sit? Like the rooftop?” Not-Tony’s hesitant voice breaks through Peter’s breathing, his concentration in trying to make his skin peel back from the hardwood surface. 

“I’ve only been here the once. Pepper and Morgan still spend time here, but I don’t come.” Peter replies. 

Peter has a prolonged, blurry memory of this place, of a sense of serenity that clashed awfully with his internal loss of orientation. 

May was familiar with the house, knew what cupboard the mugs were in and where to find the towels. Happy knew there was a couch in the office he could steer Peter to, forcing him down like a child to take a nap. Photo’s on the desk, of Morgan in all different sizes, of weddings and picnics, and there, woven in, like part of a single narrative, science fairs and lab sessions, taken from Peter’s phone. 

The couch had smelled like dust, the house like silent grief. 

Pepper says it’s comforting for her, to be there, and she always invites Peter too. But Peter can’t. 

Tony’s not there for Peter anyway. Not the parts of Tony that Peter understood, not the parts he knew. 

Those are in the compound, in the old SI lab, in previous Stark penthouse. Places that don’t exist anymore. Places that got destroyed, sold, shut up and left behind. 

The new labs aren’t the same, Pepper’s penthouse child-friendly and soft, the Avenger’s compound an ash filled crater. 

So Tony’s nowhere now. 

Nowhere and everywhere. 

Peter goes back to trying to the find the miniscule muscles in his fingers, imagining them releasing. His right pinkie finger lets go with a pop. He can feel Not-Tony's eyes on his hands. He can feel the miniscule quiver of the jetty under his feet, as the waves of the lake lap against it. He can hear the needles on the pine trees falling, one after the other, like soft green snow. If he opens his eyes, he’ll see it all, the hazy light, catching the dust floating above the lake in golden specks. 

“How do you normally deal with a- whatever this is?” He asks, with this weird kind of calm that he’s been exuding since Peter broke the door. 

Peter flushes. 

“Relaxation, distraction, it’s an emotional response.” Peter says, closing his eyes again and begging his skin to release. 

“Why don’t you tell me about something good then?” Not-Tony suggests. 

“Something good about Tony?” Peter asks, cracking one eye open to look at him. 

“If you’d like. Doesn’t have to be. Just anything good. Something easy to talk about.” Not-Tony shifts the jetty underneath him as he recrosses his legs, leaning on the post a little. 

Peter tries to think about things that make him okay. Thai with Aunt May, Lego’s with Ned, cards with MJ. Movies with Uncle Ben, ice creams with Happy, and Mister Stark, Tony- 

_Good things Peter._

“He gave me a calendar invite for my sixteenth birthday.” Peter says eventually. “We already had a joint one set up, for my internship visits, but this was different. One Saturday every month for the whole year, set aside. No superhero business, no internship. We built go-karts and raced them, we tried fishing and hated it, we binge-watched a version of Game of Thrones that FRIDAY edited to be PG 13 that made absolutely no sense. Just, dumb stuff.” 

Peter pauses, realising there were so many good things. 

His entire right hand smoothly releases. 

“He never rescheduled or cancelled. He went to Japan for a month, he flew back for the day. It was like- it was awesome. He had threatened to give me something ridiculous. And I didn’t want that. What am I going to do with an Audi right? It was like he was starting to get that it wasn’t about stuff. That the suit was cool but the time was the best.” 

Peter’s left hand lets go then, and he sighs in relief, spreading and balling up his fingers. 

“Oh man, that’s better. Thanks.” 

“I thought he was like Howard. When you couldn’t look at me-” Not-Tony says into the wooden planks of the jetty. “I thought you were afraid.” 

Peter frowns. Tony might have been many things, and he might have taken some time to find his feet in being consistent for Peter, but he wasn’t like Howard. 

“I don’t think anyone tried harder to not be like their father than Mister- Tony, did. He made some major stuff-ups at the start, but he tried really hard to fix things with me. He made up for it.” Peter tells him. “It was good.” 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Not-Tony covering his face with his hand, breathing hard through his nose, Peter pretending he can’t hear it. Peter picks up the smooth rumble of the van, accompanied by the rush of the replusor units of the unmanned suit Tony had sent to guard them. 

“They’re coming back.” He tells Not-Tony. “You should tell them what happened. Double sweep the house for bugs.” 

“I’m alright here kid.” Not-Tony says. 

“Seriously Tony. I think I need a second anyway.” Peter tells him. 

Not-Tony rises and goes to meet the van, but not before resting his hand on Peter’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Peter shifts the door pieces, pushing them as far away as he can without standing, and lays down. He hears Happy swear at the empty doorframe. Peter hums to himself, forcing the volume over Not-Tony’s clipped mention of Director Fury. 

Director Fury, who had come all this way to try to intimidate Not-Tony about Parallel Peter’s file. To hide something about Peter’s death. He’s using Peter’s DNA. Peter’s so sure. The spy had set Peter’s Spider-sense screaming. 

But he can’t deal with that right at this second. He doesn’t want to. The clouds are marshmallow fluff in the sky, and it’s warm in his vest, and he just doesn’t want to right now. 

It can all wait. He’ll just take a nap here, listening to the water. 

He closes his eyes. 

Pepper’s gentle tones overlay Not-Tony’s deeper one. He imagines him taking a sleepy Morgan out of her car seat and carrying her inside. He doesn’t look, because it’s a real thing, a thing not meant for him to see. There could be a Tony, Pepper and Morgan, but Peter is never supposed to be part of that, in any universe. 

Peter will just destroy it. 

The adrenaline crash hit him hard. 

He flinches as a hot tear leaks across his temple into his ear. It tickles. 

The air here smells the same as the lake in Peter’s universe. 

He depresses his web shooters to unwind a small spool of thin webbing, tying it off in a circle. He starts weaving them, in a cat’s cradle, in a Jacob’s ladder, focusing on the patterns and the dexterity of creating figures. On building simple puzzles he knows how to unravel.

The webbing twists around his fingers and somewhere inside the lake house Tony is sitting with his real family, Peter on the outside. 

He’s got to move. Got to do something. 

He rolls to his feet, tucking the loop of webbing into his pocket. 

“Karen, were you listening?” He says into his throat mic. 

Her gentle hum responds in his ear. 

“Rough, right?” He says weakly. 

“I like this Tony.” She responds. 

_I like him too. Let’s try to keep him alive, Peter._

“He’s not as funny as our Tony was though.” She continues. “But I think you should keep talking to him.” 

“Yeah, maybe later Karen.” Peter says, stepping back onto shore and heading down the waterfront. 

“I suggest you don’t go too far, until the sweep for surveillance is complete.” Karen suggests. “It would be unfortunate for Fury to learn of your presence in this world.” 

“Who says he hasn’t already?” Peter contends, the thought making him glance uncertainly around him, as though SHIELD agents might burst out of the trees at any moment. 

“I calculate that the confrontation in the house would have gone very differently, were that the case.” Karen says. 

Peter nods and heads back towards the garage, getting Karen to run her own sweep for surveillance as he does. She detects a number of deactivated bugs, notes that they would have been fried by Not-Tony’s security before ever relaying anything. 

The garage is locked. 

And of course, it doesn’t accept Peter’s fingerprint in the scanner. 

He ducks into Morgan’s play tent instead. 

It’s a little small, but it’s private. He brushes leaves and dirt off the fabric matting, taking a moment to marvel at the idea of Tony Stark, of the razor-sharp beard, inventor of concrete chic and precision transistor systems, surrounded by this messy, imperfect nature. 

He never knew Tony, did he? 

_Avoid that._

It doesn’t even matter anymore. 

He crosses his legs, flicks up Karen’s holo display, and gets to work. 

* * *

It feels like an age before he hears Tony’s panicked voice yelling his name. 

Karen informs him it’s barely been ten minutes. 

Still, ten minutes at a hundred and twenty words per minute covers a lot of ground. He’s established his full framework of file categories that Karen can autofill in the background. 

Time to tackle the Fury problem, he guesses. And then there’s home, with Mysterio, in his own chaotic, ripped up universe. He still hasn’t decided what to do about that. 

Peter’s fingers jitter about like he’s mainlined caffeine. 

“Peter!” Not-Tony yells his name again. 

“In here!” Peter yells back, folding away Karen’s holographs. 

Not-Tony pulls back the flap on the tent. He peers in at Peter. 

Peter feels like he’s six years old. 

It’s kind of nice. 

“Christ kid.” Not-Tony says. “Now I know why that baby monitor program was so intense. You’re slipperier than a pig covered in butter.” 

“Living in the country has made you a hick.” Peter wrinkles his nose. 

“Hey. I was having a heart attack out there. You can’t do that Pete. You can’t just disappear.” Not-Tony says, lowering himself onto a stool outside the tent. 

Peter gives him an unimpressed look. Tony always sounds a bit like May when he gets like this. 

“You could’ve fallen in the lake.” Not-Tony says. 

But his eyes speak of different fears. 

“There’s too much green out there.” Peter says, and changes the topic completely. 

He starts talking about Fury. 

“Pete. Nat’s already on it.” Not-Tony interrupts him, grabs his wrist awkwardly and gently pulls him out from the tent. “You need to slow down a sec.” 

“I can’t. I need to get going. I need to sort this out.” Peter replies. 

“You need to take a breather.” Not-Tony counters. 

“Stop telling me what to do.” Peter snaps. “You're not-” 

Peter stops himself, squeezes his eyes shut. Kicks himself internally. 

_You're not my Tony._ But that's not Not-Tony's fault, and he's trying. 

Peter diesn’t open his eyes again to see what Not-Tony is looking at him like, when's he's being a jerk to him. 

“There’s just so much stuff.” Peter whispers. 

“Maybe you should put some of it down.” 

“I can’t. I can’t put it down.” Peter stresses. “It’s my responsibility.” 

_Now that Tony’s dead._

“Peter.” Not-Tony says carefully. “Not everything is on you.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter pulls his wrist from Not-Tony’s grasp. 

“Maybe not. But do you think Tony would have wanted this for you?” Not-Tony asks. 

“I don’t know what Tony would have wanted. The Tony I knew didn’t live in a barn. The Tony I knew didn’t leave me messages saying I’m sorry I never told you that I love you. The Tony I knew didn’t have his own kid, a real one.” 

Peter feels like he’s back again, one week after the funeral, when everyone was talking at him, telling him how Tony would be okay with being gone, because Peter was back. 

As if it was some kind of fair trade. 

“Just put one thing down. Please.” Not-Tony begs him. 

“I can’t.” Peter squeezes his eyes closed more tightly than ever. 

“Tell me something easy again, then.” Not-Tony says. 

This one comes quickly to Peter. 

“May and Tony set up a group chat and used to send each other pictures of me eating and sleeping. It was the worst thing ever.” 

Not-Tony laughs. 

It’s a good tactic, to remind Peter it’s not all bad. It does slow him down a little. 

Another silence sets in, except for the breeze in the pine needles and the lapping of the lake. 

“Why don’t you tell me something not so easy. Something medium hard.” Not-Tony says to him. 

He’s breaking the problem down, trying to engineer a fix for Peter like always. 

Or not. 

Cos it’s not Tony. 

“Um.” Peter casts his mind about. “I wanted to be a kid for a bit longer. Tony respected that, agreed with it even, and it mostly worked. That’s why I turned down my spot on the Avengers, and we tried not to hang out in public too much. It kept me mostly out of the tabloids as Peter, and Tony played intercept on the big superhero stuff." 

He thinks of how Fury had greeted him in Prague, and he shivers. 

"Now that I think about it, he probably kept Fury and the government away from me too. I didn’t even realise.”

“That sounds like a smart play. Being,” Not-Tony gestures to himself, “all this, it’s not what it’s cracked up to be. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not you.” 

He needs to do something with his hands. He pulls the loop of webbing from his pocket, starts rethreading the familiar designs. Open A. Cat’s whiskers. Add the diamonds. Jacob’s ladder. 

Peter’s fingers dance in patterns above his chest, stringing the webbing into complex designs. 

“Yeah but it also means that no one knows.” He says. 

“Knows?” 

“About me and Tony.” Peter says. “Everyone thinks they own a bit of him now, you know? Because he and Natasha died in the efforts to save us. They’re like immortal, and they’re everywhere on the streets. At school, we cover Tony’s work and I- I can’t just walk out of social sciences when his name comes up. I can’t ask them to take down the wall of Tony’s greatest inventions in the robotics lab.” 

He twists the string of webbing, feeling the pinch and burn ground him to the moment. He can feel himself winding up again. The string cuts into his fingers. 

“Kids in class talk about it all the time. And no one knows. I don’t want people to say sorry to me, or be weird, I just want them- I just want it out of my face.” He feels the throbbing of his fingertips, strangled. 

Not-Tony reaches over, takes Peter’s hands. He unwraps the webbing from around his hands, winching as the tight lines of red become clearer. He sits back, but leaves one hand on top of Peter’s, rubbing his fingers gently, encouraging the blood back into them. 

“You’re a lot gentler than he was. More affectionate.” Peter blurts out. 

Not-Tony’s hand slows, then releases Peter’s, like he’s overstepping boundaries. Peter rolls his hands over and grasps the hand Tony is withdrawing. It’s okay for Not-Tony to hold his hand, because it reminds him that they are different. 

“Tony always seemed a bit hesitant with it, like he was second guessing himself. Or waiting to be rejected. He went for shoulder bumps, playful punches, a pat on the back. We didn’t do touching. He held me while I turned to ash, if you count that. And then when I came back-“ Peter halts at the end of the sentence like he’s run out of road at the edge of a cliff. 

When he came back he got a kiss to the forehead, in the middle of a battlefield, Tony gripping his arms around Peter with that shaky exhale. He had pulled him in tight, like Tony was gathering an imprint of Peter against himself, making sure he was real. 

Pepper had told Peter Tony dreamed about him sometimes, not the nightmares but dreams, where Peter was just in the kitchen, or the garage. Somewhere where he shouldn’t be, just spinning on a desk chair or sipping a cup of milk. Hanging out on the lounge room floor, feet propped up over the couch cushions. 

She said the mornings after those dreams were worse than the mornings after the nightmares. 

Peter remembers dreaming like that about Ben. 

He knows how that feels. 

Waking up hopeful to a world waiting to remind you of loss. 

Not-Tony just gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s a hard thing.” Peter whispers. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” Not-Tony says. 

Peter rests his cheek against his kneecap, bone pressing into hard bone as he looks seriously at Not-Tony. They are so alike. The same. Peter wonders if their DNA is an exact replica, down to the whorls of their finger pads. 

“Tony said once, if I died being Spider-Man, it would be on him. And I was Spider-Man on an alien planet when he didn’t want me there. And I died. I died so badly. Right in his arms. I put it all on him. For five years he carried it. And then- And then he found a way. Brought me back. Brought us all back. Half the universe.” 

“Time travel.” Not-Tony says, something almost like awe or amazement in his voice. “That was his motivation. You. Of course.” 

“But to keep us- To keep us he had to-” 

Peter feels his tongue pushing up against the back of his throat like it’s going to seal over. He closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look at Tony’s face. 

“Peter.” Not-Tony says warily. “What did Tony have to do?”

“Nothing. That’s the point. He didn’t have to do anything. He was supposed to be out. Done with Iron Man. But he came back. One last go. Because of me.” 

The words float off across the lake like specks of dust, ugly in the light of day. 

“Tony’s dead because of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely readers!  
> Here's the latest installment, man I had trouble with this one.  
> Remember when this was supposed to be a four chapter work that would come before FFH?  
> *sighs*  
> Yeah me too. 
> 
> Also- exciting news,I'll be updating each weekend until we hit the end. So yay!! From here on out, you might get some FFH similar content. So if you haven't seen it... You're warned. (Who am I kidding? If you haven't seen it, SEE IT) 
> 
> As usual, let me know how you liked it! I love your comments so much, thanks for your time and effort.


	19. The Lake house still, NY, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter hooks his fingers into the front of his armoured vest. He pulls it down, propping his chin on the top edge of the plating, looking out over the lake. He looks unconvinced by Tony’s words. Tony sighs and scoots forward, stretches out his legs and looks over at the lake too.  
> “Did he ever tell you about the Mark I trials?” Tony asks eventually.  
> “No.” Peter replies, still quiet.  
> “If it went anything like mine, I flung myself into the ceiling, then landed on a three hundred-thousand-dollar car. Broke a rib. Made a mess too.”  
> Peter snorts.  
> Tony considers it a win.

Peter is brilliant. 

Tony knows this. 

He suspected it the second he started babbling at him about inter dimensional travel without taking a single breath, confirmed it when he looked over Peter’s work and realised his boy could have solved this entire problem without him, and marveled in it with every casually cropped equation and line of code since. 

Peter was definitely a genius. 

But damn if his son can’t talk some utter crap. 

“Peter.” Tony calls him out. “That’s crap.” 

As soon as the words drop from his lips, Tony realises it’s probably not the right thing to say to a grieving teenager. Peter proves as much by opening his eyes to gape at him. He’s a bit of a mess, eyes puffy and the edges of his nose red, looking young and a little lost. Of all the things Tony could have ever want his son to inherit, a grossly overactive sense of guilt and low self-esteem were not on the list. He would have settled for Peter getting his eyes, or even just his earlobes, and just left it at that. 

“You don’t know that it’s crap.” He protests weakly. 

“I do.” Tony says firmly. 

After the earlier panic in the lake house, Tony has settled into a weird sort of order the second Peter had said Tony was dead. His kid needed him right now, more than he’d imagined, and Tony’s shit could come later. Never in his life had Tony found it so easy to shove all his emotions away as the moment Peter admitted he was lost. 

“You don’t have all the information.” Peter says. 

That was Tony’s job right now, to help Peter. And everything else can wait. 

“I think I have as much information as I need, actually.” 

“That’s-“ Peter looks up and to the side, like he’s casting about in his head for the word, “arrogant.” 

“Probably.” Tony says, shaking their still joined hands a little. 

He tries to imprint the feel of it in his brain, all too aware that for him and his son, this is too little too late. He grips Peter's hand more tightly, because soon there will be no hand to hold, just an empty space and an awful mess. 

“I am arrogant. And evasive. And selfish. I can’t see anyone’s perspective other than my own and I have such a strangling fear of letting people down that it dictates nearly all my actions, and blows up in my face half the time.” Tony takes a breath. “And I also know there’s not a single strategy I wouldn’t employ to ensure the ongoing safety of the people I love. If your Tony was anything like me, and he decided a drastic measure had to be taken, then it had to be taken. I trust his judgement. Simple as that.” 

“Simple as that.” Peter repeats. He looks out over the lake. “What if it someone you only thought you loved?” 

“I-“ Tony stops. “What?” 

Peter takes a steadying breath, and takes his hand from Tony’s, folding his hands in his lap. Tony can see him warring with himself. 

“Maybe Tony didn’t love me, like, not the real me. What if it he just liked me, but it got all tangled up with the guilt and the missing me? Maybe he was thinking of a better Peter Parker than the one that really exists. The one who won science fairs, and actually turned up to Decathlon practice, the one who pulled runaway prams off train tracks and stopped muggings. Not the one that spilled cherry soda on FRIDAY’s main cooling tower, or got detention twice a week. I don’t think he missed the one who called him out of meetings cos he got stabbed in random bodega, or blew up ferries and stowed away on space ships.” 

“Peter, death doesn’t make things from nothing. It just strips back all the bullshit so we understand what was important.” Tony tells him. 

Peter hooks his fingers into the front of his armoured vest. He pulls it down, propping his chin on the top edge of the plating, looking out over the lake. He looks unconvinced by Tony’s words. Tony sighs and scoots forward, stretches out his legs and looks over at the water too. 

“Did he ever tell you about the Mark I trials?” Tony asks eventually. 

“No.” Peter replies, still quiet. 

“If it went anything like mine, I flung myself into the ceiling, then landed on a three hundred-thousand-dollar car. Broke a rib. Made a mess too.” 

Peter snorts. 

Tony considers it a win. 

“I once blew through eight hundred thousand dollars from R&D in one weekend, on a vanity project. When I was twenty-three, I drove drunk home from a party. Your Tony, he was CEO of Stark Industries before he was Iron man, right?” 

Peter nods, the sunlight through the trees dancing across his serious expression. 

“So we built weapons. Not just any weapons, cruel ones. Things that ripped people’s lives apart. And we partied all over the world with the profits of that. And Tony, he dragged you into a fight against the Avengers. He cut you off, and you got hurt. You had to do things you never should have had to do.” 

“Why are you saying this?” Peter says. His voice wavers a little at the end of his words. 

“You still loved Tony right?” Tony asks. 

“Yeah, of course.” Peter says. 

“We aren’t our biggest mistakes kid. We aren’t our smallest ones either. Take it from someone who’s made a million.” 

Peter blinks for a second, considers Tony’s words. Then his expression changes. He looks suspiciously at Tony. 

“This isn’t one of those do as I say, not as I do moments is it?” He asks. 

Tony reaches across and shoves Peter off balance a little, tipping him so Peter can’t look straight into his face. Peter rolls to the side and laughs. Tony drinks it in. It might be the last time he ever hears that laugh. 

But he’s right, it’s absolutely one of those moments. 

Tony knows he’s fucked up in his life, but the knowledge his son is dead and an experiment for SHIELD is going to haunt him like no other mistake he’ll ever make. 

Peter pops back upright, brushing leaf litter from his vest. 

“Take that off Pete.” Tony instructs, “It can’t be comfortable.” 

Peter blushes then. 

“I can’t.” He admits. “It has too many buckles-” 

“You can’t do your own vest up?” Tony asks incredulously. 

_I'm going to kill everyone in SHIELD. Everyone._

“I can,” Peter defends himself, “but I was in a bit of a rush. So I just, webbed some of them together.” 

“Christ kid, alright, up, let’s have a look.” 

Peter steps up on the stool Tony left near Morgan’s playhouse and raises his arms a little, letting Tony inspect the fastenings as he walks around him. The webbing jams up half the clips, and there’s no way Tony can see to remove the vest without cutting the clips or his kid. 

The clips can go, he decides. 

“I heard his heart stop beating.” Peter says softly. “Both times. Ben and Tony.” 

Tony makes a noise he hopes is reassuring, and activates his wrist gauntlet. Tony begins to carefully work on pulling apart the fastenings, trying not to disrupt whatever Peter’s trying to get out. 

“I don’t know what happened. I was pretty out of it, by then, my helmet and comms malfunctioning. I felt this, like, kick, through my whole body and I knew I had to move. Had to get to Tony. I was halfway there when the Infinity stones energy released. He used them. And by the time I got to him-“ 

Peter stops himself. Takes a deep breath. Tries again. 

“I only saw Tony for a minute when I got brought back. Long enough for a hug. And then next time I saw him, he’d already done it. Decimated all of Thanos’s forces with the stones. Humans- He wasn’t- He knew he wouldn’t survive it.” 

Tony feels a visceral sort of relief, that this story doesn’t end with Peter re-entering the fray, helmet less and disoriented, or Pepper’s screams. That the story would not be punctuated by the heavy thud of Rhodey’s body hitting the ground. 

_Good on him._ Tony thinks as he cuts through the metal clips. _When you're losing an unwinnable game, just toss over the board._

Tony severs the final fastening and lifts the vest off of Peter. 

Peter gulps a deep breath. 

_I’m such a selfish man_ Tony realises, as he watches his kid’s chest rise and fall, as Peter breathes in and out. He doesn’t regret his counterparts’ actions for a second, even as he watches his son in grief, heaviness around his eyes that doesn’t belong. 

Peter's breathing. Peter is breathing. And if the other Tony is anything like him, that will be the only thing he would have confirmed before leaving. 

“I’m sorry buddy. I really am. But Tony, and Ben too, knew what they were doing. You know that. Don’t undermine their choices to protect you by questioning your worthiness. You are worth it. They believed in you. Truth is, Pete, I can’t say, given the chance or the choice, I’d make a different choice than what either of them did.” Tony tells him. 

He doesn’t think he’s meant anything more in his life. 

“You didn’t even know me until five days ago.” Peter says quietly, stepping off the stool and craning his neck a little to look at Tony. “You didn’t even know Peter Parker existed.” 

“Jesus Pete.” Tony can feel exasperation written all over his expression. If Peter doesn’t want to go into science he’ll make a hell of a lawyer. His clever kid who has to question everything. “You don’t pull your punches at all, do you?” 

“Don’t make that face at me.” Peter says. “I hated it when Tony used that face.” 

“What face?” 

“The May face. The one that says I love you but I’m going to kill you…” Peter trails off. 

He stops for a moment. 

“Oh.” Peter says quietly. 

“Yeah.” Tony says awkwardly. 

“Okay.” Peter breathes. “Okay.” 

He’s saved then, as Tony always is, by Morgan and Pepper. Morgan, carefree and already running her words together at Peter, carrying a bucket, Pepper with careful eyes and trays of sandwiches. 

* * *

From where he dragged the desk in the garage, Tony can see Peter and Morgan collapsed together in the couch swing, the blanket Pepper had placed over them dropping onto the ground. 

Pepper hovers at his elbow, where she’s been the past two hours, alternating between anxiously tapping what Tony asks her to into the computer, and heading back over to the swing to readjust the blanket and look at the kids for a few minutes. 

They’ve been alternating that job, really. 

“I don’t see why you can’t do a whole suit.” She says for the hundredth time. 

“I can’t Pep.” Tony says softly again. He pulls Pepper into his side and kisses her hand. “I’m just replacing what he needs. Just the fastenings and the mask. He’s got the Iron suit at home and he’ll summon it when he gets there.” 

“And these?” She taps the eyeglasses sitting in front of Tony, nanobots swirling around the connection point as Tony uploads new programs to them. 

“These are just day wear.” Tony tells her. “Statement glasses are very in for teens right now.” 

“We’re really doing this then?” She asks. “We’re really letting him go?” 

_Oh how the tides have changed._ Tony thinks wryly as he inspects his work. 

He shoves down his own anxiety at the thoughts, pretending like _he's leaving, he's leaving, he's leaving_ hasn't been spiralling behind every calculation he's made so far, every reinforcement he's built into the tech. 

He’s managed to fit an incredible number of nanobots into the frame, the black glasses thick and somewhat bulky. They’ll mostly be used for intelligence and analysis, Tony has decided, but he couldn’t make them any slimmer without compromising the strength of the emergency mask feature. 

They’re a bit out there, like most things Tony designs, but not too much so. Besides, the kid’s got the jawline to support it. He’s added earpiece integration and a slim wire frame system that will thread through Peter’s hair and keep the weight off his nose. 

He starts to transfer Karen into the system, but is blocked by the huge amounts of data she’s currently crunching through behind the firewall Peter adjusted earlier. Tony leaves space in the program for her to autofill at her own pace, while he adds full authority to the planetary defense system he’s building. Just in case Peter is ever back in the neighbourhood. 

_Just in case..._

Pepper moves to walk to the swing again. 

“I’ll check on them.” Tony tells her. “You sort through and upload these please.” 

He pushes her gently onto a stool and wheels her over to a terminal. 

“Harry Potter?” She wrinkles her nose. 

Tony drops a kiss onto it. 

“His soon-to-be girlfriend is a bookworm. Thought they might get a kick out of it.” Tony shrugs. 

“Tony that’s really cute,” Pepper shoos him away from the computer, “but I’m definitely having Karen lock the permissions until Michelle gives her consent for him to view it. And I’m having FRIDAY scan the films for inappropriate things, like nudity.” 

“How do you rule half the world yet know absolutely nothing about Harry Potter?” Tony wonders as he walks out into the late afternoon sun. “Unhook the glasses when they beep, okay Pepper?” 

The ducks are pecking confidently at the corn the kids had thrown for them, a distraction from a frog hunting expedition that had ended badly, with Morgan screaming herself silly and accidentally dropping a bucket of frogs right on Peter’s shoulder. 

He stops just short of the swing couch, pulling out his phone to take a quick picture of Peter and Morgan fighting for space, conked out in an afternoon nap. Morgan was winning. Love squeezes painfully at Tony’s heart. He has the urge to send the picture to May Parker, to tell her about Peter, to show her all the realised potential of her nephew. 

Tony won’t, not because he’s selfish, but he’s not cruel. 

Peter cracks one brown eye open, screwing up his face at Tony’s raised phone. Tony snaps a picture of that too. 

“Don’t be so weird.” Peter mumbles, closing his eyes again. 

“Don’t be so cute.” Tony shoots back. 

“Gross.” Peter pulls the blanket over his face. “What time is it?” 

“Almost four.” Tony tells him. 

A muffled yawn comes from under the blanket. 

“I guess there’s not much else for me to do anyway while we wait for Strange.” He says. 

Tony’s hand goes to his pocket, and the batteries inside it. 

“Tony?” Peter pulls the blanket off his face, sounding more alert now, probably responding to the uptick in Tony’s pulse. 

In response, Tony pulls the power cells from his pocket, balances them flat in his palm. 

“Strange came?” Peter sits up carefully, shifting Morgan from under his arm. 

“No.” Tony replies. 

He swallows hard. 

“I’ve had these since Denmark.” He admits. 

"Why?" 

“I guess needed more time.” 

Peter fiddles with the edge of the blanket. 

“Okay.” He says. 

“Okay?” Tony asks. 

“I get it. Besides, Mysterio’s a total narcissist right? Just in it for the applause? With me gone there’s no competition anymore, so he’ll be too busy doing the press rounds to do any real damage. I hope.” 

Tony smiles gratefully. 

He’s got such a good kid. 

“You’ll be okay though, right Tony?” Peter says, looking urgently up at Tony. “I mean, you didn’t know the Peter here. So it’ll be okay, right?” 

Tony lies through his teeth. 

“We’ll be fine. C’mon. I’ve got something to show you, then we’ll talk a little strategy.” 

They head into the garage. Pepper helps Peter in and out of the vest until he can practically don it mid flip, the automatic clasping system snapping across his chest. Peter twitches excitedly as they run through the stealth mask inputs settings with Karen. 

“It’s perfect Tony, way better than what SHIELD gave me.” Peter enthuses. 

"Alright Pete, pay attention to this bit, I'm going to show you how to added a filter to avoid future interference by the dimensional energy." Tony says as Peter leans against the bench with his elbows, peering at the mask in Tony's hands. 

“You know you probably did meet him.” Peter says. 

“Who?” Tony asks. 

“Parallel Peter." Peter says casually, unaware of Tony’s sudden anxiety. "You had that drama with Vanko and Hammer at the Stark Expo in 2010 right? He would have been there. I was wearing an Iron Man mask, with some toy repulsors on. A Hammer drone came down, and I raised my hand and you blasted him away! And then you said-” 

“Nice work kid.” Tony says softly. 

Peter smiles, all bright light and love. 

“Tony says that’s the first heart attack I ever gave him.” 

Tony clears his throat again, while Pepper comes across to rub his shoulders. 

“So.” She says. “Present time?” 

She hands Tony the glasses case. He hands it on to a protesting Peter. 

“Present time.”

“Glasses?” Peter looks confused as he pulls them out, rolling them over in his hands. 

“Now be careful with these kid. You’ll have access to SI and military technologies. You can rain fire from the sky with the permissions you have on these.” 

“Seriously?” Peter asks eagerly. “Could I contact the space station?” 

“Erm. Yeah I guess.” Tony admits. 

Peter throws his arms around Tony and gives him a super fast squeeze, then returns to geeking out over the glasses. 

“Tony this is incredible! What did you call it?” 

“The EDITH system.” Tony says. 

“EDITH?” Peter asks, holding up the glasses to squint at the arms, looking at the fine extending filaments that will support the device's weight on his head. “Does it stand for something?” 

“Even Dead I’m The Hero.” 

Peter stares at him for a second. 

“Oh my god!” He sounds scandalised. “You can’t call it that! Oh my god!” 

“Too soon?” Tony asks hesitantly. 

“Yes. No dead Tony jokes from the alive Tony. Shit.” 

Peter pulls him into another hug. 

“These are so cool, thank you.” He says. 

Peter slides the frames onto his face, his eyes lighting up as the holographic lenses flicker to light, and the system connects. 

“How do I look?” He turns to Tony to ask. 

_Fucking beautitul._ Tony thinks. 

He clears his rapidly closing throat. 

“You look great kid. Just like a Stark.” He says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone to this chapter!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Also, like, at least once a chapter, I'm putting Peter down for a nap. I am determined he'll make up for like, months of anxiety driven insomnia during this story.
> 
> Next week, more presents, some goodbyes, and an unexpected reentry to the real world.


	20. Standing in a field, Hudson Valley, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The green portal begins gaining permanence around its outline, while condensation builds against the invisible line between universes. Tony and Peter take unconscious, coordinated steps away from it. They watch as it firms up. 
> 
> “Well,” Peter clears his throat. “This is it.” 
> 
> “This is it.” Tony repeats. 

“Peter, come on, it’s time.” 

Peter looks up from his Iron man backpack, the contents of which Tony swears he’s checked and rechecked at least a dozen times. The same with the plan they’ve reviewed over and over, the magic pokeball Peter’s pulled in and out of his pocket nearly constantly. These tics have been building throughout the evening, alongside the slight distraction behind Peter’s eyes, the accelerating pace of his gestures. But with them is a new energy, a growing excitement, that’s released Peter into the bright, spirited kid that Tony has only been getting glimpses of before today. 

By contrast, Morgan has been growing increasingly reluctant, dragging her toes along the floorboards, eating her spaghetti by the individual strand, scowling ferociously at the thought of a bath. 

It’s with that same reluctance that she holds the book out to Peter now. 

“Rosie Revere, Engineer.” Peter takes the book from her and reads the title. “High five Mo, Rosie is the best.” 

This response doesn’t get a response from Morgan. She continues to stare at Peter and Tony reproachfully, sleeves of Peter’s hoodie drooping off the end of her skinny arms, the lower hem pooling around her feet, ‘don’t panic’ emblazoned across her chest. 

She couldn’t look more pathetic if she tried, a small waif being buffeted about unwillingly by the circumstances in her life. 

Tony appreciates how she feels. 

He kneels down. 

“No.” She snatches her arm away. “Peter.” 

Peter kneels beside Tony. His shoulder bump is apologetic, consolatory, before he deftly rolls up Morgan’s sleeves in precise movements. 

They follow Morgan into her bedroom, where she clambers into bed. True to his word, Peter is familiar with the book, and reads it with paced skill. Tony sits on the armchair in the corner, and tries not to blink, or breathe, as the lampshade casts a warm yellow light across the room. Pepper leans against the doorframe and Morgan and Peter’s heads crowd together, their hands overlapping as Morgan points to her favourite illustrations, Peter keeping his fingers under the words to help Morgan follow along. 

It feels like something Tony shouldn’t be present for, a small snapshot of life without him. 

Eventually, the book ends, and so does the moment. 

Morgan reaches for another book. 

“Nuh-uh Missy moo cow,” Tony interrupts, “one book only was the deal.” 

Morgan shoots him a look of deep betrayal, wiggling down in the bed and resting her face against her hands on the pillow. She looks up at Peter. 

“You know,” She says pitifully, “doors open two ways. Inside the door and outside the door.” 

Tony sighs. 

“That’s true,” Peter says, “except for the one in the living room now. It doesn’t open at all.” 

Morgan continues undeterred. 

“So if you open the door one way to go home, you just have to open the door the other way to get back here.” She says. 

“We’re going to lock the door after me, remember?” Peter says gently, pushing back the hair off Morgan’s face. 

“But then you’ll be trapped.” 

Peter shakes his head. 

“No, I’ll be at my home, with my family.” He tells her. “I think my little sister is probably missing me. She’s four, just like you.” 

“She could come here.” Morgan offers to Peter, like a bribe. 

“If that happened this world’s descent into darkness would be swift and without mercy.” Peter laughs. He glances up at Tony, catches his eye. “Imagine that. Twins.” 

_Sounds perfect._ Tony thinks. _It all sounds perfect._

Tony laughs and pulls himself out the chair. Morgan shoots upright, wrapping her arms around Peter’s neck as though Tony will snatch him away. She smashes her head into Peter’s chest in the hug equivalent of ‘I can’t hear you’ and mumbles something into his shoulder. 

“Love you too Morgs,” He whispers back, kissing the side of her head, “three thousand.” 

“One more story.” she begs. 

“Okay you,” Tony interrupts, his voice crackling in his throat, “your procrastination skills have no power here.” 

There are no tears, not yet, although Tony suspects as soon as he and Peter leave Morgan will be out of bed like a shot. He gently flicks off the light switch and pulls the door closed behind himself, to turn to the scene of Peter rocking up on his toes to give Pepper a hug. 

Tony watches as Pepper’s eyes briefly close and she brings her arms up to hold him back. They sway slightly, and Tony can tell she’s imprinting the moment as hard into her memory as he is. 

“I can’t even tell you how lucky I feel to have meet you.” Pepper says to him gently. “You’re so special Peter.” 

“Thanks Pepper.” Peter says, and steps back. “Thanks for everything.” 

As usual his wife does better than him, and there’s nothing in her face but glowing warmth as she follows them to the door. 

Happy sits in the front room, and pulls himself to his feet. He hands Tony the duffle, then offers Peter his gear, which he dons, then his backpack. 

“Kid.” 

“Happy.” 

They both nod like that’s the final word. 

Peter and Tony head out into the night, the yard lit by porch lights until they reach the harsh edge, where the yellow pools out and the darkness starts. Peter turns back and throws a wave to Pepper’s silhouette. They step beyond the line. 

“Tell me again why we didn’t do this earlier, when it was still light out?” Tony asks he stumbles over a tree branch. 

“Because neither of us can say no to Morgan?” Peter suggests, his steps sure and steady beside Tony. 

The trees crowd in around them, blocking the blanket of stars Tony knows are there but cannot see. He wonders if it will be the same when Peter’s gone, knowing he’s there, but remote, hidden, gone. He stumbles a little again, and Peter catches his elbow. 

Apparently, day or night makes little difference to Peter’s senses. Tony gives up and has FRIDAY fetch a reconnaissance drone. In an instant it’s flying out ahead of them, illuminating the narrow dirt pathway to the field. 

It gives a filter of unreality to the situation, that still, grey edge of quiet adventure. They could be inside a video game. He sees Peter hike his backpack higher on his shoulders, his fingers drumming a rhythm against his tactical vest. 

They reach the boundary of the field, and the drone perches in a tree, coating the grass with it’s floodlight. Tony kneels, pulling the portal devices from his bag. Peter gets down beside him, and together they set up. 

“So you’ll notice I uploaded some files into Karen,” Tony interrupts the silence, “it’s just some of Michelle’s movies, but you’ve got to ask her before you can watch them. Speaking of asking, ask her out already.” 

Peter sits back on his bottom, and looks at Tony. Tony concentrates on activating the device in his hands, and setting the coordinates. His mouth keeps on speaking. 

“And practice safe sex. Always get enthusiastic, ongoing consent. Don’t mix alcohol and exams. Don’t drink and drive. Don’t drink and swing either. Keep Ned around, and treat him well. Build yourself a vibrainium containment unit in case you ever come across an explosive in the field, because all that cut the re wire stuff is a load of crap. If your arch nemesis dies, check the body yourself. Don’t ever read the comment section when it’s about yourself.” 

The portal springs up, translucent green crackles of electricity sparking around the edges. Tony looks it over. 

“Maybe we should get Strange out here. Or Pym.” He says. “As backup.” 

Peter gets to his feet, and holds a hand out to Tony. He pulls him up as though Tony was no more than a child. 

“It’s okay,” he says with a smile, “I trust you Tony.” 

The green portal begins gaining permanence around its outline, while condensation builds against the invisible line between universes. Tony and Peter take unconscious, coordinated steps away from it. They watch as it firms up. 

“Well,” Peter clears his throat. “This is it.” 

“This is it.” Tony repeats. 

“Any final words of advice? Or did you get it all out in that brain dump?” Peter smiles again, but Tony can see the need for reassurance hovering around the corners of it. 

“No kid. You don’t need advice from me.” 

“Okay.” Peter nods to himself and squares his shoulders. “I left a data packet for you with FRIDAY. Sorry I couldn’t do more.” 

Tony nods, hardly even sure of what Peter is saying. He looks at him closely, trying to memorise the lines on his face, the curve of his cheek, the uptilt of his nose. 

_This is the last moment I’m going to see my son alive._ Tony thinks, and begins to shake. 

“I guess, I guess I just step through then?” Peter takes a hesitant step towards the portal, and then another. 

He looks back at Tony, fingers curling around the edges of his backpack straps uncertainly. 

Tony’s suddenly aware of how stupid this all is. Because this _is_ the last moment he’s going to see his son alive. 

“Get back over here.” Tony waves him over and Peter takes the two steps almost at a run, landing in Tony’s arms with bruising force. 

Tony puts one hand on the back of Peter’s head, and crushes him right back. He looks up at the sky to blink away his tears. Says a silent thank you out into the infinite universe as he feels his son, solid in his arms, vital and brilliant and strong. 

“You just keep doing what you’re doing Pete.” Tony whispers. “Trust yourself.” 

Peter nods into his shoulder, then draws a steadying breath. He gives Tony one last squeeze, then steps back a half step, out of Tony’s arms. 

They both blink like idiots, then snigger at each other as they wipe at their eyes. 

“Pete, I’m so proud of you. You’re such a great kid.” Tony reaches out to push back his hair and cup his face. “Seriously, a father could never ask for more.” 

A million expressions flicker Peter’s face, warring with the white of the spotlight and the green of the portal. He pulls his head out of Tony’s hand. 

“Tony,” Peter says, “You know you aren’t really my father, right?” 

Peter’s voice is almost cautious. Tony curses himself for overstepping. He knows that he can’t claim a single hair on the head of this incredible kid. There’s a portal hanging in the middle of a field that proves that. 

“You know we aren’t related?” 

Tony shakes his head, denial starting to course through his body along with the adrenaline and grief of letting Peter go. 

“You- he just found me. There’s no- There’s no blood between us, no DNA shared-I didn’t mean for you to think that. Please- You didn’t just do all this because you thought-” 

Peter’s words are running together, his sentences in disarray, his hands outstretched in a plea. 

_It’s not true._

“I’m not your son.” Peter whispers. 

_It’s not true._

Peter’s hands waver in the flickering light. 

_It doesn’t even matter._

Tony blinks himself into awareness. 

“It’s okay Peter.” Tony says. “I didn’t think you were.” 

Because he knows Peter. Knows Peter inside his blood and inside his heart, inside his dreams and inside his hopes for the future. Something warm creeps into Peter’s eyes, with the brightening glow of the rift energy. 

“But I know you Peter. I know you were supposed to be in my life. I started dreaming about Morgan's brother before Morgan was even born. Some cosmic fuck up in this dimension meant that didn’t happen. Maybe all this, you coming here, was the universe trying to right itself. But I’m telling you, just like you told my daughter, family is what you make it. Peter Parker is my kid. In whatever universe. A constant.” 

Tony grabs Peter’s face, presses a kiss into his forehead, right in the centre. 

“Anyone disagreeing can fight Iron Man on it.” He concludes. 

It’s a sweet moment. 

It doesn’t last. 

A slow clap echoes across the field. 

Tony spins towards the portal, slinging Peter behind him. The fog rolling along the surface of the portal has dissolved into a film. On the other side of the portal stands an outline, features vague behind the mist. 

The figure gives one last clap, and the portal clears. 

“Very touching. Very cinematic.” Quentin Beck, Mysterio, stands tall and perfectly coiffed. 

“Beck.” Peter says, knocking Tony’s arm away to stand beside him. “Where’s Doctor Strange?” 

“I don’t even know who that is.” Beck smiles smugly, his armour glinting as the mist around him swirls in the wind, revealing a trainyard behind him, not the inside of the sanctum like they had programmed. “The device you stole from me was still connected to its brother, you see, and I knew you would be back.” 

“Paired devices. Shit.” Peter swears beside him. “Not again.” 

Tony feels like a goddamn rookie. 

“I prepared a little treat while you were gone, Spider-Man.” Beck steps to one side with a flourish. 

The portal clears fully into full high definition details. The trainyard is empty, nothing out of place, except- 

_Oh god no._

Except a small lump lies on the train tracks, bound in chains, like some bizarre cartoon come to life. The lump wiggles furiously and Tony catches a glimpse of black Converses and a shock of brown hair. 

“MJ.” Peter breathes. 

“You know I met the famous Michelle Jones once, in my world? I was something of an actor myself.” Beck starts to pace, his cape swirling behind him. “For all her reputation of being one of the nice ones, she barely gave me a second glance. It was part of my great realisation, that movie stars are all overrated.” 

Tony grabs Peter by the wrist, studies their opponent. 

“But superheroes? Oh yeah, superheroes are where it’s at. The fame, the glory, the ability to rise above the rules society sets for everyone else but not for the heroes, not the men in the metal suits and lycra. No they can do whatever they want.” Beck continues. 

Tony hopes the walking trope of a villain will trip, give them something to work with. Beck could never take Peter head on, his kid was too strong, too smart. 

Tony realises. 

Beck is coming at him sideways, presenting him with all his dreams and fears to beat his psyche against as he struggled with all the most difficult aspects of being a hero. Gave Peter back his dead mentor. That didn’t work. So this was Plan B. More death, so Peter could heap blame upon himself. 

“Like Iron Man. He was the biggest rock star of them all right?” Beck says. “So good you can swap out one for the other like this.” 

Peter’s pulse skyrockets under Tony’s fingers. He tightens his grip as he feels Peter’s weight shift. 

“Stay cool kid.” Tony murmurs to him. 

“You should listen to your fake daddy Peter. I’d hate for you to disobey and get him killed again.” Beck taunts. 

The chains around Michelle clink as she kicks at them. 

The thing is, Beck isn’t a hero. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know that all it takes to be like Peter is to keep getting back up again. He can throw fear, grief and pain at Peter in endless amounts, and every time Peter will get up again. 

Tony knows his kid, and he believes in him. 

“-what can I say? I’m a fan of the classics. Dead parents, orphaned super teen, plane crashes and gunshots and ultimate heroic sacrifices for Peter Parker. What did our protagonist need next? Ah yes, the untimely demise of young love-” Beck’s monologue builds. 

“There’s only enough energy for one trip.” Peter says under his breath to Tony. “I can’t pull him across.” 

The rest is unspoken. They can’t guarantee Michelle’s safety that way anyway. 

“-She didn’t appreciate being relegated to the damsel in distress role. Unfortunately, it turns out our little heroine is all snark and no bite.” Beck interrupts them with a sneer. “Would you look at the time?-” 

“I’ll go.” Tony says softly. “You get Strange, he’ll help gather more energy for my return trip.” 

“No way.” Peter whispers back. 

“-Did you know the Hanover to Berlin interrail travels at 250 kilometers an hour?-” Beck says. 

In the distance a train whistle blows and Michelle begins struggling harder. 

“Peter!” She shrieks. The desperation in her voice flaps like a flag in the wind as she chokes on her sobs. 

Tony flashes back to Pepper, screaming as she slips out of his fingers. He’ll do anything to keep Peter from that second of pain. 

Tony activates his suit. 

He’s too slow. 

Peter reaches the portal in a single leap, flinging a small ball behind him as he does. It rolls to Tony's feet, and he's barely able to activate the rest of his armour before it explodes, coating the lower half of his legs in thick sticky webbing. 

Tony summons a blade from the bleeding edge armour, slicing at his shins. 

Peter's through the portal now, on the tracks, where Tony can’t follow. The Spider-boo boo protocol goes nuts in Tony's forming headset as he loses contact. 

Peter leans forwards to pull at the chains, hands scrabbling desperately to free Michelle. Tony's blade stills as the girl disappears, her form shuddering out of existence like badly glitching graphics. 

The track is empty, except for Peter. 

Peter steps back from the spot where his friend once was, stumbling on the rail sleepers. The chain he holds slides through his fingers, dissolving into the wind. 

The track is empty. 

With excruciating speed Tony's brain brings it together. 

It was just an illusion. 

Peter's eyes widen. His arms start to raise. 

A train is revealed with stunning velocity, exploding into sight. 

A rush of displaced air as it speeds past. 

A shockwave through Tony's chest at the space it leaves behind. 

Then silence. 

Then nothing. 

* * *

Tony falls into the nothingness with a slow blink, then back out the other side. 

* * *

The other side is loud. 

Beck laughs manically as Tony snaps into himself, sobbing inside his helmet. _Peter, Peter, Peter_ his brain blasts on repeat. He bites back a scream as he hacks through the webbing around his limbs, the blade biting into his calf. 

* * *

The other side is bright. 

His holo display flashes numbers at him, analysing the impact, analysing the portal. Red blood gleams on the edge of Tony's blade as he raises it. Beck's armour crackles with green as he throws something through the portal. 

* * *

The other side is fast. 

A grenade bounces off Tony's chest plate and the world explodes. A concussion wave rattles through Tony's bones, and he can feel the armour sliding around himself, redirecting. He hits the ground hard. 

A portal device crashes next to him, sparks flying from its edges, the casing melted and misshapen. 

Tony blinks, and the field is quiet, under the single spotlight. 

The portal is gone. 

Peter is gone. 

* * *

Tony tries to get up, but falls back into the nothingness instead. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slips chapter out onto Ao3...  
> I'm just going to leave this here....  
> Thanks and bye....
> 
>  
> 
> Seriously, we're in the endgame now, thank you all so much for reading and commenting and I hope you enjoy!


	21. Back to reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No!” He wiggles some more. “What are you giving me?”
> 
>  
> 
> “For sleeping.” The lady holding him down responds. 
> 
>  
> 
> “No. I gotta- gotta fight.” Peter gasps.
> 
>  
> 
> “You did fight. With a train.” She nods towards his body. “You lost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys-don't normally add disclaimers at the start of chapters, but this chapter contains descriptions of injuries, gore, and gross medical stuff (Peter did just catch a train with his face) so if that's not your jam skip to below the break, nothing will be lost. There is still a medical procedure below the break but definitely a more minor one, no gore.

Peter’s pulled into existence by the wheeze of stale air being forced into his lungs. 

He bolts upright, lashing out. 

The world is just vague impressions. 

White shelving crowding in on him. 

Cold air nipping at his bare skin. 

A deep pain in his left hip. 

The need to cough. 

He gags on the tubing rubbing in his throat. An instinctive pull against the plastic scrapes painfully and he calls up some muddled memory. The cuff. He has to deflate the air cuff that creates the seal for the intubation tubing. His fumbling fingers find the syringe and he draws on it. The pressure inside his throat relaxes. He coughs hard, feeling the tubing slide out of his throat. Something wet splatters into his hand. 

He cracks his eyes open. The room bounces gently and his left hip screams. They’re moving. Faintly, as though on the other side of water, a siren wails. Below that, he hears a whimper. 

It’s not his own. 

Peter turns his head and sees a blonde woman in uniform, an orange bag used for artificial respiration held limply against her chest. Her eyes widen as Peter coughs again. 

Strong arms are pushing him back against the stretcher. A second woman in the same uniform forces an oxygen mask onto his face, her stethoscope knocking into Peter’s head as she leans over him. Peter focuses on the swinging pendulum as she speaks harshly to her colleague. It’s a language Peter doesn’t understand, German maybe, and it’s so loud. 

So loud. 

The blonde paramedic drops the bag, scrambling to pull open a draw beside her. She braces against the wall of the rolling ambulance as she pulls out a syringe, filling it with a milky liquid. She moves to inject it into the IV running into his arm. 

“What is that?” Peter asks, reaching for her hand. The woman holding him down grips his hands firmly, tucking them against the bed. She’s strong, the muscles under her brown skin barely flexing against his struggles. 

“No!” He wiggles some more. “What are you giving me?” 

“For sleeping.” The lady holding him down responds. 

“No. I gotta- gotta fight.” Peter gasps. 

“You did fight. With a train.” She nods towards his body. “You lost.” 

Peter laughs, then flinches, the sound rattling under his mask. The movement shoots pain along his side. 

The two women have another fast conversation. If he had to translate he’d guess it went something along the lines of _how the heck is he alive_. He’s wondering the same thing. They look at his monitors, where Peter can see a run of numbers that actually don’t look too bad considering. The longer he’s awake the more aware he’s becoming of the pain radiating along the left side of his body. 

“Be still. You are hurt.” The paramedic says, but releases him anyway. 

Peter takes a quick inventory. IV’s run from both his elbows. He gently bends his arms to runs his hands around the mask, feeling the swelling over his eye and prodding gently at what might be a broken cheekbone below it. 

His hands tremble as they skim across his chest, feeling a section of his chest moving in the opposite direction of the rest of his left rib cage. Gross, but he can feel it slowly knitting together already. Below that, he prods the edges of gauze padding running from his ribs to his hip. There's cut flesh underneath. 

_Double gross._

His hands skim across his hipbones. He’s naked. The paramedic efficiently leans over and retucks a sheet around his waist. They must’ve had to cut him out of the armour. No web shooters either. Any loss over that is quickly replaced by the intense ache in his left hip. He wiggles his fingers and toes. They work, so there’s that. He runs through the periodic table. 

It’s correct. He thinks. 

_How do I know if it isn’t?_

He turns his attention back to the paramedics watching him and gives them a weak smile through the oxygen mask. The woman who restrained him smiles back, thin lipped. The other one looks like she’s going into shock. 

“Hi.” He says as politely as he can manage. “I’m Peter. Could I please have some water or like, Gatorade if you’ve got it?” 

The shocked paramedic, he squints at her nametag, Laura, shakes her head at him. 

“No fluids. Surgery.” She says. 

The other paramedic, Rani, according to her tag, is eyeing him. 

“Unbelievable that you survived.” She says abruptly. 

Peter eyes her back, remembering how easily she had pinned him. He reaches out to place his hand on the railing of the stretcher. He gives it a squeeze, then releases his hand. The metal holds deep indents of his fingers. 

“Unbelievable.” he repeats. 

Rani merely nods, then reaches over into a cooler at their feet, pulling out a bottle of bright orange liquid. She tosses it to Peter while hooking up nasal cannulas and swapping out his mask. She prods the other lady, whose name Peter’s forgotten, and shoots rapid German at her. The other lady jumps, then hastily grabs out another vial and a wrapped blue package from the drawers. 

She holds the vial out to Peter. 

“Pain relief.” She says. “Can I?” 

“Will it make me sleepy?” He asks. 

She shakes her head. 

Rani starts hanging extra bags for his IV’s, and after injecting him with copious local anaesthesia Laura, her nametag swung into his eyeline again, begins stitching his side up. She’s fast and precise with it. Peter chugs the electrolyte replacement in three gulps, and is wordlessly handed a water and a phone. 

He calls Tony, his fingers tapping out the number from memory. The phone rings once, then picks up. 

“Peter.” 

It’s FRIDAY. 

Of course. 

There's no Tony to call. 

He must whimper, or cry out, or something, because Rani leans over and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. She leaves it there while Peter’s brain catches itself up to speed with what universe he’s now in. 

“I am tracking your location Peter.” FRIDAY is speaking to him. 

No Tony here. Not anymore. Peter whispers a thank you and hangs up, pressing the phone against his head. 

_What had happened to Not-Tony?_ Peter strains to remember if he saw anything, but all he remembers is the flare of his own panic, MJ’s body phasing away under his fingers then the rush of the train. _Not-Tony’s fine,_ he tells himself confidently. The portal wouldn’t support anyone coming through either way, and he was in the armour. 

_He’s fine._

Second priority, MJ. 

_Thank god for a near photographic memory_

He’s pressing her number in with trembling fingers when the ambulance skids to a halt. The driver yells angrily as the back rips open. Peter musters a genuine smile for the flushed face that crawls into the back of the van with him. He can hear the distinct uptick of his heart arrythmia, and heat rolls off the older man’s body as he crowds over Peter, anxious eyes taking him in, steady hand clamped down on his shoulders. 

He’s real. 

“It’s so good to see you.” Peter’s voice trembles. 

“Good to see you too, kid.” Happy says, then frowns. “You know you’re naked right?” 

* * *

Peter’s never appreciated the shiny insides of the Stark’s private jet more. Happy drops Peter’s salvaged Iron man bag and shredded outfit on the floor as Peter greets his favourite features, _hello fancy massage chairs, hello OTT snack bar, hello operations centre, wait no, that one is definitely new._

Peter twitches in his wheelchair as Happy pushes him past the full wall of holo screens clustered around a chair. Readouts and audio files in various languages are being rapidly translated to text by FRIDAY. 

Happy wraps an arm under Peter’s armpit and lifts him onto a low bench that looks more like a lab desk than a treatment table. Peter barely protests, the super drugs Happy had pushed into his IV before he could object kicking in. 

That move hadn’t really convinced the ambulance officers that Happy was a good guy, and it had taken some significant back and forth to convince Rani that no, the sweaty angry man wasn’t here to kidnap him, and yes, the guy had injected him with stuff before. That particular statement caused reversion to the primary argument of ‘this is not a kidnapping’, and it wasn’t until Happy threw his hands in the air muttering about stupid teenagers, that the paramedics let him take Peter. 

“Stay.” Happy instructs. “Medical check, debrief, then we call May.” 

Peter rolls his eyes but lays back on the cold counter, the thin scrub pants he'd pulled on not helping at all. He’s relieved to let an actual adult deal with everything, and that he’s not dead, so he’ll go along with Happy’s insistence on doing everything in the correct order. Beck definitely thinks Peter is dead, or he would’ve finished him off on the side of the tracks. 

Peter rubs his sore hip. 

He’s not actually sure he wasn’t dead, at least for a minute. 

A display pops up above his head as FRIDAY starts running basic diagnostic scans on him, comparing his notes to those downloaded from the ambulance. Happy comes back carrying an enormous duffle bag and a medkit. Peter’s eyes catch on the tag on the duffle bag. SMAK in bold white letters. 

Happy snaps on latex gloves. 

“-Whas SnAC?“ Peter asks as Happy prods his jaw and teeth. 

“SMAK,” Happy corrects, “is the Spider-Man Accident Kit.” 

Peter rolls onto his side as Happy prods at his lacerations and bruises, and rummages through the SMAK bag. A spare suit, jeans and t-shirts, a massive stack of cash- 

Peter wordlessly lifts it up to Happy, eyes wide. 

“It’s from the Peter’s in the shit fund.” Happy says. “Ten thousand petty cash.” 

Peter yelps and drops the money back in the bag, right on top of three boxes of his favourite brand of brownies. On the inside of the bag is a tag with detailed emergency checklist in Happy’s chaotic handwriting, with Peter’s suit equipment and most commonly required medical supplies. Happy’s even included a chart of Peter’s calorie requirements. 

“Wow,” Peter mumbles, “this is really thorough.” 

The first item on the checklist, pretzels (sticks, not regular) is dated the day Happy picked him for Germany. 

“Course it is.” Happy grunts. “On your back, I’ve got a tube to shove down your nose.” 

Peter complies, blinking back tears that have nothing to do with his stitches this time. He stares up at the curved roof of the jet as Happy lays out a tray of sterilised tools. 

“I saw Tony.” Peter says, his voice wobbling. 

Happy’s hands still. 

“Is this one of those life flashed before your eyes things?-” he stalls. 

“It’s not.” Peter says. 

Happy starts prepping the tube again. 

“He said he would’ve sacrificed himself too.” Peter adds, because he can’t help himself. 

Happy puts down the equipment and rubs a gloved hand over his face. 

“Of course he would’ve.” Happy says. “Cos that’s who he was. Or is. Whatever. Just like it's who you are. Who pretty much all of us are. Just one big, dumb, self-sacrificial family.” 

Peter smiles at that, and reaches his arms out hesitantly. 

Happy returns the hug, scooping Peter up, and awkwardly patting his shoulder. It aches a little, but Peter doesn’t care as he grips fistfuls of Happy’s jacket. A field trip into the multiverse really put things into perspective. 

“Love you Happy.” Peter mumbles. 

“Love you too Parker.” Happy says back. 

There’s a pause, then Happy clears his throat and releases Peter. He busies himself by swapping out his latex gloves. 

“Will you need to hear that from me again?” Happy grumbles. “Or is once enough?” 

“Jeez Happy,” Peter flinches as Happy begins to thread the feed tube up his nose, it burns so bad, but smiles through it anyway. “I hope you don’t treat May like this. You are like, fully repressed.” 

Peter shuts up for a second so Happy can concentrate, and swallows to help the tube slip down the back of this throat. He continues. “I’m going to say that to you all the time, until you’re comfort-” 

A display on the command centre behind Happy's head is playing an hourly news broadcast. 

With Peter's picture. 

Peter’s on the news. 

In France? 

His dorky school picture appears in the box beside a newsreader speaking rapidly in French. A scrolling caption appears underneath, and the only words Peter understands are his name, and the words Stark Industries. His photo hangs in the top corner as the scene switches. A police boat floating on what must be the Seine river, the Eiffel tower looking battered in the background. A wet suited police diver is pulled from the water, and even through the grainy footage he can see their heads shaking. 

“What-” Peter starts to ask then stops, the scene switching again. 

It’s Aunt May, sitting in front of an official looking backdrop, a microphone before her. She looks composed, but Peter can tell by the way her fingers knot tightly together that around she’s moments away from freaking out. 

He’s just about to tell FRIDAY to call her when a hand lands on May’s shoulder. A hand attached to a cheesy suit of armour, and an even cheesier sympathetic smile. 

Quentin Beck sits down next to Aunt May, his hand still on her shoulder. 

“Oh yeah.” Happy says. “That.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,  
> Apologies for the late delivery of this chapter, real life was kicking my butt this week!  
> I have always head cannoned that one of the first things Tony made Peter do was attend first aid and medics training all the way up to advanced life support, because for sure all the Avengers should be trained in that, and Peter would encounter more than his fair share of injuries on patrol, not to mention managing his own.  
> Fun random fact, in my training we actually learnt to insert nasopharangeal airways and suction catheters (not the same as here, where Peter has an nasogastric tube for high calorie liquid feeds) via the nose on dummies and each other. I have since been informed by every HP I've ever mentioned this to that this is cruel and unusual training. On the plus side, I never once falsely warned a patient "this is going to feel like salt water up your nose" as the textbook tells you because it does not feel like that at all.  
> Thanks for reading, as usual, let me know what you thought in the comments!


	22. New York Sanctum, New York, AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was a trap._ He adds silently, thinking of the chain fading, the blast of a horn, Peter, standing on the railway tracks, eyes wide-  
> “Make another one.” Pepper interrupts his spiral.  
> “What?”  
> “Make another one. Build it again. Cut a slice through every universe until you find him.” Pepper insists.  
> The train rushes past, empty space where Peter’s body had been.  
> “It’s over Pepper.” Tony says. “It’s over.”  
> “Anthony Edward Stark.” Pepper says. “It’s over when I say it’s over. And it is not over.”

Tony wakes to the feeling of his body moving without him, in two places at once, and no place at all. 

“FRIDAY, override. No, god damn it. Let me see the files.” 

He looks beyond the harsh light shining in his face, sees the stars. 

He knew the stars would be there. For some reason he knows it should be comforting, that the stars are there, always there, even when he can’t see them. But it’s not. 

“I need to know now! Override.” 

Someone blocks the spotlight and his stars. 

Pepper is haloed in rose gold. Her cool fingers prod his face. They tremble, pressing down into his cheek bone. 

“Tony, open your eyes.” Pepper’s voice is firm, commanding. “Stay awake.” 

Tony snaps his eyes open at Pepper’s command, but only for her. Every muscle in Tony’s body aches, every bone draws him downwards, even his heartbeat burns. 

Pepper leans over him, blocking the light with her body. Her whole face is in shadow, but she’s so close, Tony can see her sharp eyes. He takes in his beautiful wife for a moment. She’s in the Rescue suit, and it gleams, practically glows. 

The corners of Pepper’s mouth quiver and she pushes them together hard. She pushes her fingers harder into Tony’s cheek as his eyes drift shut. 

“Tony. Where is Peter?” 

Tony goes rigid. Pepper pushes harder. 

“Tony. Answer me. Where. Is. Peter?” She demands. 

Tony licks his lips. 

“-was waiting.” He croaks out. “He knew.” 

Tony curls in on himself, grabbing his wrist. He looks at his armour, sooty and scuffed, the dark crater, the crumbled portal. 

_Peter._

His name rips through Tony and escapes in a wordless sob. Peter, written in grief. 

“Tony.” Pepper grabs him, and forcibly rolls him towards her. “James is on his way. Where would they take him?” 

Tony looks at her through dazed eyes. 

_Peter’s gone._ His mind tells Pepper. _Gone._

Pepper swears. 

“Think Tony! Where would Fury take him?” 

Tony falters. 

“Tell FRIDAY to unlock the incident file.” Pepper commands. 

“No!” Tony’s shout comes out as a hoarse whisper. He licks his lips. “No.” 

Pepper moves to stand and Tony grabs her metal hand in his own. Tony tugs and Pepper folds down in front of him on one knee, silent although Tony can feel the tension radiating off her, vibrating through the suit. 

“Pep.” His mouth is so dry, each word is like broken glass. “Pep, he’s not here.” 

“We’ll get him back.” She says immediately. “I can do it.” 

“No. No. He’s not here anymore.” Tony emphasises each word, hoping she understands, hoping she won’t make him explain. 

“No.” Pepper says in disbelief. “No, we sent him home. He was safe. He was- we were going to-“ 

“Beck knew.” Tony says. “He redirected the rift.” 

_It was a trap._ He adds silently, thinking of the chain fading, the blast of a horn, Peter, standing on the railway tracks, eyes wide- 

“Make another one.” Pepper interrupts his spiral. 

“What?” 

“Make another one. Build it again. Cut a slice through every universe until you find him.” Pepper insists. 

The train rushes past, empty space where Peter’s body had been. 

“It’s over Pepper.” Tony says. “It’s over.” 

“Anthony Edward Stark.” Pepper says. “It’s over when I say it’s over. And it is not over.” 

_It’s not over._ Tony tries to tell himself. _It is not over._

* * *

Wearing Pepper’s suit feels bulky as he blasts through the night sky. The handling is slower, less finesse and firepower than his own, but her armour is more mission appropriate. He’d named it Rescue armour for a reason. FRIDAY talks him through breathing exercises for the entire duration of the fifteen minute flight, the powerful hum of the repulsors serving as a droning backdrop to his fluctuating breathe, his chugging heart. 

Iron Man drops to the concrete before the Sanctum, body buzzing. 

Tony retracts his faceplate but leaves the suit on, unsure if he’s capable of walking or evening standing without it. He clunks up the stairs, pushes through the front door. The suit folds down around him, deactivating some kind of pressure from the magics in the brownstone, and Tony stumbles. 

The Sanctum is quiet, but the air inside it rolls and riots, like the aftermath of a hurricane. Something has just gone down here, Tony can sense it in the way the dust refuses to settle. 

“Hello?” Tony calls, his voice weak and wavering. He calls out again, to no response. 

He turns on the spot, looking at the rooms and hallways leading from the entrance. 

“I detect voices from the west wing.” FRIDAY says from his phone. 

He follows the hallway to the right, and within a second he hears them too. It’s a loud argument, Tony recognises both Wong and Strange’s voices. 

“You felt his energy.” 

“Of course I did! But it’s been almost a decade Stephen!” 

Tony throws open an ornate gilded door, certain the wizards are behind it. The room, that looks more like a chapel, is empty. 

“-can’t just use the stone like that.” 

“I have before-” 

The words twisting and floating around the hall, as though the argument was happening on a moving field, in different rooms through different walls. Tony chases the voices. 

“Reckless-upset the balance-” 

Tony wants to scream. He doesn’t have time for this. 

“-the balance is already upset by his death!” 

Tony throws the next door open, a solid metal one. Wong and Strange spin to face him, fists raised in readiness. Their faces are soaked in sweat, their robes heavy. Strange has a shiny burn mark across his face, his right sleeve heavy singed. 

“What happened to you?” Tony blurts out. 

“A present from my colleague across the void.” Strange rolls his eyes and drops his arms, Wong following. “I sent him a message regarding your boy.” 

“You sent him a ransom-” Wong interrupts. 

“It was a message.“ Strange mutters underneath his rebuke. 

“We have Peter Parker.” Wong intones deeply. “How did you expect him to react?” 

“Peter.” Tony interrupts. “I need to get to that dimension Strange.” 

“It’s closed. Quite thoroughly.” Strange says, sounding satisfied. “In fact only moments ago-“ 

“Then tear out a new one.” Tony says. 

Strange and Wong glance at one another. Wong steps out towards Tony, raising a placating arm. It trembles. 

“Tony.” Wong says. “We have just repaired the energies between our universes. We believe permanently. There will be no more rifts.” 

“No.” Tony refuses them, even though he can see their exhaustion, can feel the remnants of power still rolling through the building. “No. Send me through.” 

Tony feels an emptiness beginning in his mind as it disconnects from his body. 

Strange simply raises an eyebrow. 

“Send me to Peter now!” Tony screams. 

Both wizards advance on him then, backing him into the corner. 

“FRIDAY. Playback.” Tony throws his phone on the floor as the blue holoscreen pops up and he sees Peter scrabbling on the tracks. Tony’s back collides with the wall. He sinks down it. A train whistle blasts. Tony presses his hands against his ears and squeezes his eyes shut. He presses his forehead into the floor. He doesn’t need to see it again. He doesn’t need to see the moment, the second, the freeze frame. It plays in high definition behind his eyes. Peter’s hands raising, his hands widening in shock. The train- 

_Two hundred and fifty kilometres an hour._

_Force equals mass times acceleration. How much does the train weigh? How much does a fucking train weigh? How much force can Peter survive? How fast did the bullets that killed Peter travel? How fast can a fourteen year old bleed out?_

Tony spirals, with bullet trains and bullets calculating speed, metabolic rates, muzzle velocity, surface tension, smaller surface of the projectile, higher - 

“Tony, Tony, TONY!” 

Tony gasps and rolls back, batting at the hands reaching for him. 

Strange is crouching before him, a hand on his shoulder. 

“Tony, he survived it. The boy is alive.” 

“How do you know?” Tony’s voice rises with his hands to grasp Strange’s scarred fingers. 

“We couldn’t start the spells until Peter returned. We were connected when the energy rebalanced. Peter didn’t return to die. Doctor Strange would have felt it. And he would never let that happen. Peter is too important.” Strange sounds confident, sure. 

Tony glances over his shoulder to Wong, who is looking at Strange with a frown. He pulls himself up, then nods once to Tony to confirm. 

“He’s alive?” 

“He’s alive.” 

* * *

Tony stumbles into the living room, leaving the Rescue armour next to War Machine on the porch to guard the front door. The lamplight pools across his couches where Rhodey waits. He rises to his feet in a second, arm under Tony’s armpit, guiding him into the couch. 

Four empty hot chocolate mugs sit on the coffee table. It’s almost too much to bear. 

“Tony. What the hell is going on?” Rhodey asks, tipping Tony’s head to the side to examine the bruising pooling along the edges of his jaw. “I feel like I’ve missed about four steps.” 

His head throbs where Rhodey pokes at it, and the stitches Strange had threaded into his shin sting. 

Pepper runs down the stairs. 

“Tony,” she drops to his side, breathless. “Did you see him? How is he?” 

“He’s safe.” Tony says flatly. 

“Oh thank god.” Pepper breathes, her eyes glistening with tears. “Oh thank god. I thought the worst-” 

She trails off. 

Tony sighs and rests the back of his head against the couch. 

“You don’t look relieved.” She says. 

Peter’s alive, but Tony will never see him again. Never seen either of them. 

“I couldn’t see him. The rifts have been closed permanently. The door is locked now. It’s locked.” 

Pepper pulls Tony into a brief hug. Tony stares blankly over her shoulder. 

“So it’s over.” She says softly. "We're in the after." 

_It can’t be. It can’t just be over like that._

“Still four steps behind.” Rhodey chimes in. 

“I’m so sorry James.” Pepper sits back. “It’s been an insane few days. Maybe tomorrow?” 

Tony takes a shaky breath. Wipes his eyes. Shakes his head at them. 

“FRIDAY, pull up security footage, penthouse kitchen, seven am, yesterday morning. Rhodey, I want to show you my other kid.” 

* * *

The sun is just starting to rise along the water when Tony heads out to the garage. Pepper and Rhodey had been looking at him out of the corners of their eyes, letting him talk, watching the videos. 

They’d found a hidden snippet of Peter and Morgan Tony had missed in real time, Peter working in the lab that first night, Morgan drawing away beside him. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” She’d asked. 

“Red.” Peter had said through a mouthful of the stylus he chewed on. 

Tony hadn’t know that. 

He hadn’t known Peter’s favourite colour. Or his favourite subject at school, though he suspects it’s chemistry. Hadn’t known his favourite brand of cereal, hadn’t noticed how he tied his shoelaces, was it left over right or two loops together, didn’t know his favourite season or time of the day. 

And Tony will forever not know these things. 

He needs something he does know. 

Something he can assemble, can arrange, can fit together and not fuck up and not be stuck with not knowing. 

The bench is littered with wires, screwdrivers and solder. Tony stares down at his tools. There’s not a thing they can do for his problems. 

He starts to build anyway, the garage lit pink and orange by the early morning light. 

“Boss.” FRIDAY interrupts quietly. “I have a message for you.” 

Tony’s hand shudders and he drops his screwdriver to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Fucks sake FRIDAY.” He says. “Hold all messages for now.” 

_Can’t you see I’m having a meltdown?_

“It’s from Young Master sir. It’s from Peter.” She says. 

Tony’s head whips up in hope. 

“He recorded it before he left.” She sounds apologetic. 

“Play it.” 

Peter’s projected into the centre of the room, in full holographic form, spinning in a chair. 

Tony collapses back into his stool, hand grasping his chest. 

“Karen, is it working? Is it recording okay?” Peter asks, spinning still. 

Karen confirms and Peter stops himself abruptly, jerking upright in his chair so quickly he almost overbalances. He grips the edges of the chair and glances about sheepishly, as if he hopes no one had seen his clumsy moment, as if he’s already forgotten Karen is recording. 

He clears his throat. 

“Hey Mister Stark, um, Tony, I’m recording this for when I go home. Thanks a bunch for helping me with that by the way. This has been so crazy. It was really nice to meet you and your family. If it’s okay, can you tell Morgan I love her? Or not, I guess she might not even remember me when I’m gone, she’s so little.” 

_This kid…_

“Um, thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt, and looking out for me against Fury, and for including me in your family. I guess you and the other Tony aren’t that different hey?” 

Peter folds his hands in his lap, looks at his interlaced fingers for a second, then pushes on. 

“Anyway, on this encrypted drive you’ll find three folders. The first describes everything I know about the Infinity stones. The second contains everything I know about Thanos, space and the like. It’s all categorised in folders. The third contains the equipment and equations required for time travel. That one’s just for you. Don’t open it unless you need it.” 

Peter looks up then, serious and earnest. Tony reaches out, as though he could touch the boy’s face, but his fingers sink through the blue tinged image. 

“I hope you never need it. I don’t know how your timeline branched, or when. But I do know that if Thanos is out there, you don’t need to suffer the same losses we did. I’m trusting you though, Tony, to only access what you need, when you need it. I don’t have to tell you that messing around with the knowledge I’ve left you is dangerous.” 

“The most important thing I can tell you though is it took us all. I know what Steve did to you, what they did to the team, and I don’t know where you’re at with it now, but more than knowledge, more than technology and planning, it took us all. I hate to ask this of you, but if it ever comes to it everyone needs to be on the same side, and that’s what counts.” 

_I’ll do whatever it takes Peter._ Tony vows. 

“Keep this information safe, please. I’ve created copies for Shuri and T’Challa in Wakanda, they have greatest response capacity outside of yours. I’ve made another copy for Captain Marvel. If you can’t find her please give it to Natasha Romanoff for safekeeping. If you don’t know who Captain Marvel is, well, if anything pings on down from space, you need to get yourself a pager. Number’s in the file. I’ve left introductory videos for these groups that should convince them my message is legitimate.” 

Peter takes a deep breath, and Tony knows this is the end of the message. 

“And Tony? I know you worry, about raising Morgan, about being good enough.” 

“Don’t.” 

“You’re the best. You’re just, you’re the best.” 

Peter smiles then, a small, wistful tug at the corner of his mouth as though he’s listening to a private joke. 

“Don’t trip. Everything’s going to work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.” 

FRIDAY doesn't close the message, just leaves it hovering, Peter suspended in space, small smile on his face. 

The sun keep rising across the quiet countryside, and Morgan is singing from inside the house. 

A new day is dawning on the lake. 

_Time travel._

_I’ve got time travel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> Woah, big chapter plotwise- and on time?? What is happening? (What is happening is I have an assignment due so of course I work on WIPs instead).
> 
> Scream at me in the comments because I know you will want to!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you have any feedback or notes.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as @reachingforaspark


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